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HOUGHTON   MIFFLIN   COMPANY 
BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 


ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 
AND   OTHER  POEMS 


ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

And  other  Poems 

By  ANNA  HEMPSTEAD  BRANCH 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON   MIFFLIN   COMPANY 
<£Iu'  ttilicrsiDc  press 


COPYRIGHT,  IQIO,  BY  ANNA  HKMPSTEAD  BRANCH 
ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 

Published  November  rgio 


TO  MY  COUSIN 

H.   EUGENE  BOLLES 

THE  BEST  LOVER  OF  POETRY 

THAT  I   HAVE  EVER  KNOWN 

I  DEDICATE  THIS  BOOK 


"Who  would  not  sing  for  Lycidas  ?  he  knew 
Himself  to  sing  and  build  the  lofty  rhyme." 


CONTENTS 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND I 

NIMROD 54 

THE    MONK    IN    THE    KITCHEN  .       .       .       .       .  136 

DREAM H1 

THE    WARRIOR    MAID         .......  144 

ERE    THE    GOLDEN    BOWL    IS    BROKEN  .       .       .  147 

CONNECTICUT    ROAD    SONG 15° 

SO    I    MAY    FEEL    THE    HANDS    OF    GOD        .       .153 

TO    AN    ENEMY •       •  155 

SELENE  .        «       . J6l 

THE    WEDDING    FEAST l8l 

DOMINUS    VINEAE,    SPIRITUS    AGRICOLA       . 


ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

CHARACrERS 

SEBASTIAN  —  the  cobbler. 
NORA  —  betrothed  to  Sebastian. 
ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  —  an  Elemental. 
A  MINSTREL — from  Fairyland. 

SCENE  :  Cottage  of  SEBASTIAN  the  cobbler.  In  the 
rear  is  a  blazing  fire  of  logs  and  near  it  a  cob 
bler's  bench  at  which  SEBASTIAN  is  seated  at 
work  over  a  woman's  shoe.  At  one  side  of  the 
fire  a  door  opens  out  of  doors.  At  the  right  an 
other  door  opens  into  an  inner  chamber.  A  large 
crucifix  is  the  only  adornment  of  the  cobbler  s 
room,  which  is  lighted  by  fire  and  candle-light. 
On  the  floor  by  the  cobblers  bench  is  a  row  of 
shoes  of  all  kinds  from  big  boots  to  little  slippers. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (outside) 

Sebastian!  Oh!  Sebastian! 

SEBASTIAN 

Who  is  there  ?  — 

No  answer!  't  was  the  wind  —  belike.  Hey  now, 
(Lifts  up  a  shoe  admiringly.) 


2  ROSE    OF   THE    WIND 

But  here 's  a  pretty  shape  of  good  stout  leather 
To  fit  the  neatest  feet  in  Christendom. 
And  since  they  travel  only  on  kind  errands, 
God  bless  my  leather. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (pUtSlde) 

Oh!  Sebastian!  Oh! 

SEBASTIAN 

Come  in  !  —  't  is  nobody.   Eh  !   My  poor  wits 
Are  all  rough  shod. 

(Knocking  is  heard  at  the  door.) 

Come  in  !   Come  in  !  Come  in  ! 
(He  goes  to  the  door  and  opens  it  but  nobody  is  there.) 
Mary  have  mercy  on  me !  Sure  I  heard 
Somebody  knocking.  Who  goes  there  ?  No  sound ! 
Yet  by  the  Blessed  Saints  I  swear  I  heard 
A  voice  that  called  Sebastian. 

(A  strain  of  music  delicately  sweet  mingles  with 
the  wind.) 

Mercy  on  me ! 

'T  is  elfin  music.   If  the  Powers  of  the  Air 
Flit  forth  to-night,  why  then,  my  good  Sebastian, 
Shut  fast  thy  door  and  bar  it  double  tight 
And  make  a  cross  upon  it. 

( Closes  door  and  crosses  it.) 


ROSE    OF   THE    WIND  3 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

Sebastian ! 

SEBASTIAN 

No! 
Thou  art  not  of  my  kind. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

Open! 

SEBASTIAN 

Ye  saints ! 

Keep  well  Sebastian's  soul.   I  '11  get  to  work, 
For  if  to-night  spells  move  abroad  and  charms 
Such  as  might  whirl  a  spirit  from  its  flesh, 
I  '11  grip  my  hand  upon  some  solid  thing 
And  so  cleave  to  the  earth. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

Let  me  come  in. 

SEBASTIAN 

Away  with  thee  !   I  am  an   honest  cobbler.   (/«  a 

loud  voice  as  be  hammers?) 
Rat  a  tat  tat ! 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (with  music) 

I  have  traveled  far  ! 


4  ROSE   OF   THE   WIND 

SEBASTIAN 

Waste  being ! 
I  '11  sing  a  song  myself  and  drown  the  music. 

(Sings) 

Judas  ran  in  sandals, 
Thomas  wore  a  shoe, 
But  Jesus  Christ  went  barefoot 
The  whole  day  through. 
(  Outside,  the  sound  of  laughter  and  of  music.) 

Is  Heaven  itself  not  wroth  ? 
JT  is  blasphemy. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (outside) 

I  am  hungry,  good  Sebastian. 

SEBASTIAN  (singing) 

Peter  had  an  oaken  staff, 
John  an  hazel  one, 
But  Jesus  Christ  he  only  had 
A  cross  to  lean  upon. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (outside) 

My  feet  are  cold,  Sebastian. 

SEBASTIAN 

What  of  that  ? 
Thou  art  an  elfin  wanderer.   I  know  thee ! 


ROSE    OF   THE   WIND  5 

If  thou  shouldst  warm  thy  feet  before  my  fire 
I  'd  see  thy  magic  slippers  curled  at  the  toe  ! 
Thou  art  not  my  kindred.  (Sings) 

"John  bad  a  scarlet  robe, 

Zebbeus  wore  a  blue  — 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (outside) 

My  cloak  is  full  of  snow,  Sebastian. 

SEBASTIAN 

Hence ! 
And  yet  —  if  't  were  some  traveler — some  poor 

child 

Lost  in  the  night  —  Bah  !  'T  is  of  alien  breed. 
If  I  should  let  it  in,  't  would  weave  a  spell 
About  me  and  my  leather,  set  my  shoes 
Belike  to  dancing,  with  nobody  in  them, 
Until  my  wits  were  wild  as  sea-gulls.  No, 
Keep  to  thy  darkness  —  and  I,  by  that  St.  Thomas 
They  say  was  a  shoemaker  and  an  honest  man, 
Will  keep  a  hold  upon  my  leather. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (from  the  darkness) 

Oh! 
I  am  so  weary  ! 

SEBASTIAN  (half  persuaded) 
'T  is  a  human  voice. 


6  ROSE    OF   THE   WIND 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

Let  me  come  in ! 

SEBASTIAN 

Some  traveler  gone  astray  ! 

Lost  from  the  pilgrimage  perchance  —  that  goes 
To  Our  Lady's  Shrine.  Sure  there  's  no  need  to 

fear! 
We  should  be  kind  to  those  that  seek  the  cross. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (outside) 

Be  kind  to  me. 

(Sebastian  goes  to  the  door.) 

SEBASTIAN 

Well !   Well !   A  moment  only  ! 
I  cannot  turn  thee  hence  ! 

(  Opens  door  and  upon  the  threshold  stands  ROSE 
OF  THE  WIND,  beautiful  and  small.  She  is 
wrapped  in  a  scarlet  cloak.) 

ROSE  OF  THE    WIND 

Am  I  so  fearful, 
When  thou  dost  see  me  ? 

SEBASTIAN 

Why,  thou  art  a  maid  — 
And  thou  art  cold  and  hungry. 


ROSE   OF   THE   WIND  7 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

Sooth,  I  am. 

SEBASTIAN 

Sweet  Heaven  forgive  me  that  I  let  my  fear 

Of  airy  powers  so  closely  lead  me  on 

To  an  ill  deed,  for  I  had  nearly  driven  thee, 

A  wanderer,  from  my  door  —  and  thou,  a  woman 

And  perchance  very  weary. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

I  am  !   I  am  ! 

SEBASTIAN 

Come  warm  thyself. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (crouches  by  fire) 
I  am  so  cold. 

SEBASTIAN 

Poor  child ! 

But  see  —  I  lay  a  fagot  on  the  fire. 
Put  out  thy  feet  and  warm  them. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

(Gathers  mantle  more  closely  around  her,  hiding 
her  feet,  which  are  shod  in  elfin  slippers.) 

No!   No!   No! 

I  '11  warm  my  hands  ...  I  see  thou  art  a  cobbler. 
Whose  shoes  are  those  ? 


8  ROSE   OF   THE   WIND 

SEBASTIAN  (at  bench) 

I  make  them  for  my  bride. 
To-morrow  we  are  married. 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

Are  you  ?  Oh ! 
And  are  you  sure  of  it  ? 

SEBASTIAN 

I  am  as  sure 

As  that  our  hearts  are  run  into  one  mould 
By  the  power  of  love. 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

What  then,  is  love  so  strong  ? 

SEBASTIAN 

It  can  resist  all  things. 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

So  ?  Can  it  ? 

SEBASTIAN 

Aye! 
Even  the  spells  of  fairies. 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

Is  it  so  strong  ? 
And  is  she  beautiful  ? 


ROSE   OF   THE   WIND  g 

SEBASTIAN 

She  is  as  fair 
As  the  Virgin  Mary  —  and  she  is  good. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

Where  is  she  ? 
I  wish  that  I  could  see  so  fair  a  woman. 

SEBASTIAN 

Well,  bide  awhile  and  thou  shalt  see  her  soon. 
She  comes  to  get  her  shoes. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

They  are  very  ugly. 
Will  they  not  hurt  her  feet  ? 


Is  soft  as  may  be. 


SEBASTIAN 

Why  child,  this  leather 


ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

Yet  I  think  my  feet 
Would  bleed  in  them.  And  they  are  heavy. 

SEBASTIAN 

No, 
They  are  as  light  as  I  could  make  them. 


TO  ROSE   OF   THE   WIND 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

Oh! 

But  can   she  dance   in  them?  Now  mine  — 

(She  drops  off  her  scarlet  cloak  and  shows  her 
scant  green  gown.  She  wears  green  slippers 
curled  at  the  toe.  She  dances  and  outside  is 
heard  a  peal  of  elfin  music.) 

SEBASTIAN 

Ye  saints  ! 

Those  are  the  elfin  slippers,  made  of  green 
And  curled  up  at  the  toe !  Thou  art  no  woman. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

What  ?  Am  I  not,  Sebastian  ? 

SEBASTIAN 

Thou  art  a  waif ! 
Brief  devil  of  brightness. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

Am  I  that,  Sebastian  ? 

SEBASTIAN 

Thou  hast  betrayed  me  and  with  thee  a  spell 
Has  fallen  on  this  thatch.  Thou  alien  spirit ! 
Out  with  thee,  in  God's  name  ! 


ROSE   OF   THE   WIND  11 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

Oh  good  Sebastian, 
Give  me  a  cup  of  water. 

SEBASTIAN  (confounded} 

A  cup  of  water! 

What  shall  I  say  to  the  devil  that  is  in  need? 
For  Holy  Writ  has  left  no  speech  at  all 
When  evil  powers  beg  for  the  little  gift 
Heaven  bids  us  always  give. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

I  am  thirsty.  Pray 
Give  me  a  cup  of  water. 

SEBASTIAN 

Well,  I  '11  give  thee, 
If  when  thou  hast  drunk  it,  thou  wilt  go. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

That  will  I  — 
If  thou  dost  make  me. 

SEBASTIAN 

Open  not  the  door 
While  I  go  out. 

(SEBASTIAN  places  shoes  on  floor  by  bench.) 


iz  ROSE   OF   THE   WIND 

Let  in  no  evil  powers. 
To  dance  about  my  hearth. 


ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

Speed  thee  !  I  'm  dying 
For  a  little  cup  of  water. 

SEBASTIAN 

Let  no  one  in. 
(Goes  out  by  inner  door?) 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND   (lifting  her  arms  as  if  in  relief) 

Oh  I  am  faint.   How  heavy  is  the  air 

Of  their  mortality.  It  burdens  me. 

Such  would  it  be  to  go  thickly  involved 

Like  them,  in  a  body  not  built  like  mine,  of  dream. 

{She  looks  at  the  shoes  on  the  floor  by  the  bench.) 
No  wonder  that  the  feet  of  men  are  slow ! 
What  heavy  shoes  !  and  down  what  weary  roads 
They  all  must  travel !  never  feel  the  air 
But  only  earth  beneath  them !   Hey  —  I  '11  give 

them 
A  festival  for  once  ! 

dances  amid  music,  beckoning  to  the  bride's 
shoes.  They  and  the  others  all  follow  her  along 
the  floor,  big  boots  and  little  slippers.) 


ROSE   OF   THE   WIND  13 

Trip  it !  Trip  it !  Trip  it !  Trip  it ! 
(She  dances   about,  laughing,  looking  over  her 
shoulder  and  beckoning.) 
Trip  it !  Trip  it !  Trip  it !  Trip  it ! 
Underneath  the  blossoming  tree  — 
Come,  poor  shoes,  and  dance  with  me. 
Through  the  streets  of  elfin  town  — 
Where  the  golden  flowers  fall  down  — 

Down  —  a  down  — 
Golden  flowers  fall  down. 
Trip  it  —  trip  it  —  trip  it  —  trip  it. 
Trip  it !  Trip  it ! 
(A  voice  calling  outside.) 

VOICE 
Rose  of  the  Wind  ! 

(She  hurries  to  the  door.) 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

Come  in  !  come  in  !  come  in  ! 

(She  flings  wide  the  door  and  amid  moonbeams 
enters  a  minstrel,  dressed  in  fairy  green. 
He  carries  a  harp.) 

Come  in,  oh  Magic  Minstrel !  Take  with  powers 
Of  music  and  of  air  this  mortal  dwelling. 


H  ROSE   OF  THE   WIND 

MINSTREL 

So  brief  a  space  hast  thou  been  gone  from  us, 
Thy  kindred.  Still  the  tree  whose  plumed  boughs 
Are  soft  as  wings  of  birds,  sings  on,  sings  on. 
Nor  yet  the  silence  of  the  elfin  night 
Obscures  that  music.  Still  the  unseen  pastures 
Stretched  warm  and  cordial  through  the  rain  and  \ 

sleet 

Laugh  out  beneath  our  dancing  while  we  feed 
Our  dreamy,  soft,  meandering  flocks,  with  horns 
Moon-tipped  and  lilied  fleeces  blossoming  white  — 
Kine  of  the  milk  of  sleep.  \  And  thou  art  gone 
From  us  so  small  an  hour.  Thou  art  alone, 
But  yet  thou  hast  grown  pale. 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

I  have  looked  upon 
The  face  of  Man  —  and  I  am  weary. 

MINSTREL 

Nay  — 
But  hast  thou  seen  the  woman  ? 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

She  has  not  come. 

But  she  is  coming  —  Look,  to  get  her  shoes  ! 
(Points  at  them.) 


ROSE   OF   THE   WIND  15 

Those!     If   my   feet  were  doomed   to  travel  in 

leather 
They  would  break  upon  the  stone. 

MINSTREL 

She  '11  dance  to-night 
Among  the  fairies. 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

Shall  she  ? 

MINSTREL 

She  must  run 

With  me  up  steepy  mountains  of  the  dark, 
And  plunge  into  black  chasms  of  the  air 
And  dance  among  the  milk-white  million  kine 
That  feed  on  sleeping  flowers  underneath 
The  blossoming  dream  forests. 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

Will  she  ?  Nay, 
But  if  she  will  not  go  ? 

MINSTREL 

I  saw  her  face 
And  I  desire  its  beauty. 


1 6  ROSE   OF   THE   WIND 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

But  she  loves 
The  cobbler. 

MINSTREL 

I  am  strong.  My  thought  astride 
The  tempest,  bridles  it,  and  with  a  tune 
I  have  undone  the  works  of  God. 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

He  loves  her. 

MINSTREL 

Who  hears  my  tune  must  dance  and  follow  me. 

(He  plays  on  bis  harp  and  ROSE  dances.) 
Lo,  thine  own  feet !  Yet  thou  art  of  my  kind 
And  wise  and  powerful.  Yet  thine  own  feet 
Must  run  because  I  play. 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

Nay  !  't  is  my  slippers  ! 
Our  elfin  shoes  are  curiously  made, 
For  they  must  follow  music.   But  they  tell  me, 
These  mortals  —  in  this  world   there's  nothing 

strong 
Save  only  love. 

NORA  (outside) 

Sebastian ! 


ROSE    OF   THE    WIND  17 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

She  has  come  ! 
Back  —  back  —  ye  shoes  !   Obey  me  !  To  your 

places ! — 

(The  shoes  all  trip  back  to  their  places.) 
Now  for  thy  magic ! 

(NoRA  enters.) 
NORA  (looking  around) 

Sebastian  !  Where  is  he  gone  ? 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

I  asked  him  for  a  cup  of  water. 

NORA 

So. 
And  who  art  thou  ? 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

Rose  of  the  Wind  they  call  me. 
And  I  was  cold  and  lost  in  the  night. 

NORA 

And  he 

Has  taken  you  in  to  warm  you  ?  You  are  pale. 
Have  you  traveled  far  ? 


1 8  ROSE   OF  THE   WIND 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

I  have  traveled  from  a  land 
That  lies  so  very  far  because  't  is  near. 
Aye,  nearer  than  the  air !  And  nearnesses 
To  mortal  men  are  dangerous  deep  crevasses, 
Waste  chaos  —  dread  oblivion. 

NORA 

What  strange  speech ! 
Whence  comest  thou  ? 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

I  came  not !  I  am  there  ! 
JT  is  all  around  me.  Eternally  I  sit 
Beneath  a  blossoming  tree !   Dost  thou  not  see 
The  golden  flowers  fall  down  —  adown — adown 
The  golden  flowers  fall  down! 

NORA 
I  am  afraid. 

MINSTREL 

Look  at  me  —  Beautiful. 

And  I  will  show  thee  whence  she  came  !   Dost  thou 
Not  pine  to  see  her  country !    It  is  fair 
As  daybreak  when  none  sees  it. 


ROSE   OF   THE   WIND  19 

NORA 

I  do  not  know  thee. 

MINSTREL 

But  I  know  thee  —  The  charmed  hour  has  come  ! 
And  I  will  show  thee  many  a  lovely  tree 
And  fruits  whereof  the  taste  is  sweet,  and  bread 
That  melts  like  snow-white  honey;  stars  —  and 

nights  — 
And  powers  and  thrones,  and  roseate  dawns  blown 

thin 
With  the  vast  breath  of  time. 

NORA 

I  know  thee  now  ! 

Evil  is  near  me  !  Stand  thou  back  from  me. 
Thou  art  an  elemental  —  and  on  my  brow 
There  burns  the  cross  of  my  baptism. 

MINSTREL  (playing) 

Listen ! 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (singing  and  dancing  around 

Nora) 

Wild  was  the  wind  that  flew 
From  the  slope  of  the  purple  hill. 
And  u  Oh"  said  the  white  cloud,  sweet  as  dew, 
"  /  travel  whither  I  will" 


20  ROSE  OF   THE   WIND 

MINSTREL 

Dance !  Dance ! 

NORA  (struggling  with  the  spell) 

I  will  not !   Oh  ye  loves  of  God, 
Lay  hold  on  me  ! 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (singing  and  dancing  to  the  tune) 

Swift  was  the  cloud  that  flew 
Over  the  purple  hill. 

And  "  Oh"  cried  the  shadow,  soft  and  blue, 
"  /  travel  whither  I  will" 

NORA  (moaning  and  struggling  away) 

Some  magic  is  upon  me. 
I  love  Sebastian — and  would  run  from  him  ! 
Oh  I  must  dance !  —  but  if  I  dance,  where  to  ? 
Mother  of  God ! 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (singing  and  dancing  to  the  tune) 

The  piper  blew  and  she  heard 

From  the  slope  of  the  unseen  hill  — 

And  "Oh"  cried  the  hearty  as  it  flew  like  a 

bird, 
"  I  fly  wherever  I  will." 


ROSE    OF   THE   WIND  21 

NORA  (rushes  from  the  door  into  inner  room  with  a 
fierce  struggle) 

Sebastian ! 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

I  tell  you  that  to-night,  my  elfin  brother, 
A  strange  time  comes  upon  us  and  a  thing 
Whereof  we  have  no  knowledge. 

MINSTREL 

Never  before 

Has  mortal  maid  refused  to  follow  me 
When  I  played  the  magic  music. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

You  did  not  see 

Her  eyes  were  on  the  cross  !   But  I  will  help  you, 
For  I  would  have  her  gone  !  Sebastian's  face 
Seems  beautiful  to  me  —  as  hers  to  thee. 
Oh  I  would  have  her  hence — and  when  she  is  gone 
I  will  tarry  with  him,  maybe  —  if  I  like. 
He  is  gracious  as  green  trees. 

(Taking  off  her  shoes.) 

Lo  now,  my  shoes  ! 

They  cannot  help  but  dance  when  thou  dost  play, 
For  they  are  woven   of  spells  and   charms  and 
dreams 


22  ROSE   OF   THE   WIND 

And  emptiness  and  magic  —  and  no  man 
Did  stitch  them  for  me. 

(She  sets  them  on  the  floor  where  SEBASTIAN 
placed  the  leather  shoes.) 

Look  —  I  set  them  here  ! 

And  when  she  sees  them  she  will  put  them  on, 
And  thou  shalt  play,  my  brother,  and  she  dance 
Out,  out  into  the  night !  And  then  this  man 
Shall  sit  by  me  and  smile. 

(SEBASTIAN  enters  with  Nora.   He  carries  a 
cup  of  water.) 

SEBASTIAN  (to  Nora,  who  is  faint  with  terror) 

Hush,  foolish  child. 

There  is  no  power  on  this  earth  can  take 
My  own  betrothed  from  out  my  arms.  Hush  now — 
I  have  thee  charmed  with  love  and  that 's  a  spell 
That  binds  the  angels,  so  they  ever  fly 
About  God's  throne  like  great  white  birds  —  as 

thou 

Shalt  see  some  day,  if  thou  art  good  !  In  sooth 
Thou  art  so  good  I  love  thee  more  and  more. 

(To  the  MINSTREL) 
Thou  art  a  stranger !   Rest  thou  at  my  hearth. 

(To  ROSE  OF  THE  WIND) 
I  bade  thee  keep  my  door  shut. 


ROSE   OF   THE   WIND  23 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

It  was  music 
That  blew  it  open. 

THE    MINSTREL 

I  am  a  traveling  player 
With  no  thought  save  for  tunes. 

SEBASTIAN 

Well  —  rest  thee  ! 
(Giving  cup  to  ROSE  OF  THE  WIND.) 

Drink ! 

(To  NORA,  who  clings  to  him  trembling.*) 
Take  heart,  my  Nora !   He 's  a  harmless  fellow. 
And  after  supper  he  shall  play  us  a  tune. 
Wilt  thou  make  him  a  cake?  Thou   wilt  not? 

Thou  shalt  do 

Just  as  thy  sweet  will  bids  thee.   Go  now  —  look 
At  the  shoes  I  made  thee  —  set  beside  my  bench 
Until  to-morrow  — 

(Turning  her  toward  the  bench.') 

I  must  mend  the  fire. 

NORA  (taking  up  the  fairy  slippers) 
What  pretty  slippers! 

SEBASTIAN 

You  like  them  ? 


24  ROSE   OF   THE   WIND 

NORA 

But  so  fine! 

So  soft !  So  fair  and  fragile  as  if  wrought 
From  down  of  humming-birds. 

SEBASTIAN  (from  the  fire) 

It  was  good  leather ! 
I  paid  a  price  for  it. 

NORA 

Curled  at  the  toe ! 
They  are  the  prettiest  shoes  in  all  the  world. 

SEBASTIAN  (absorbed  with  mending  the  fire) 
Then  try  them  on. 

(NoRA  pulls  off  her  own  shoes  and  puts  on  the 
magic  slippers,  while  ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 
croons  softly.) 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

Swift  was  the  slope  that  ran 

From  the  steep  of  the  purple  hill, 

And  "  Oh"  cried  the  brook,  "/  am  freer  than 

man, 

For  I  travel  wherever  I  will" 
(The  MINSTREL  begins  to  play  and  NORA  to  dance.) 
The  tune  all  night  and  day 
Calls  from  the  purple  hill 


ROSE   OF   THE   WIND  25 

And  "Ob"  cried  the  feet  that  danced  for  aye, 
"We  dance  wherever  we  will!  " 


NORA 
Sebastian  !  Help  me ! 

SEBASTIAN  (seizing  her  in  bis  arms) 
Did  you  call  ? 

NORA 

The  tune ! 
I  cannot  help  but  follow  it. 

SEBASTIAN  (to  minstrel) 
Stop! 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (while  the  MINSTREL  plays) 

Peace ! 

Thou  hast  no  part  in  it.  The  hour  lies 
Betwixt  him  and  this  woman  !  No  hand  of  thine 
Laid  upon  hers  can  help  her  now. 

SEBASTIAN 

Thou  art 

The  very  power  of  darkness.  But  there  are  hands 
Strong  and  invisible  as  thine  own  spells, 


26  ROSE   OF   THE   WIND 

(Vnd  they  move  all  things,  even  the  heart  of  God. 
The  hands  of  prayer ! 

(Kneels  at  the  crucifix) 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

The  hour  is  come! 

SEBASTIAN  (praying) 

Oh  God 
Have  mercy  on  us  ! 

MINSTREL 

Look  at  me,  Beautiful ! 
Let  us  go  out,  for  now  along  the  glade 
My  people  run  on  moonbeams,  and  't  is  time 
That  we  should  laugh  together. 

NORA  (dancing) 

I  Jll  not  go ! 

MINSTREL  (playing) 
But  look  at  me. 

NORA 

No. 

MINSTREL 

Come  to  me. 

NORA 

I  will  not ! 


ROSE   OF   THE   WIND  27 

MINSTREL 

Lay  thou  a  hand  on  me. 

NORA  (as  if  charmed) 

Some  evil  will 

Has  entered  me.  Stand  back  from  me.  I  knowthee. 
Thou  art  an  elemental  and  I  fear  thee. 

MINSTREL 

Then  run  from  me. 

NORA  (going  toward  him  slowly  as  in  a  dream) 
I  am  running. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (with  mockery) 

In  a  dream  ! 
SEBASTIAN  (praying) 
Heaven  have  mercy. 

MINSTREL 

Curse  me ! 

NORA  (going  nearer ,  helplessly) 

I  do  curse  thee. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

But  in  a  dream. 


28  ROSE   OF   THE   WIND 

SEBASTIAN  (praying) 

Oh,  Heaven  have  mercy  on  us. 

MINSTREL  (playing) 
Hide  from  me ! 

NORA  (going  nearer  to  MINSTREL,  as  if  entranced) 

I  have  hidden  from  thee  !   Oh  — 
Thou  knowest  that  I  hide  —  buried  in  a  gulft 
Of  darkness  terrible,  wherein  no  star 
Has  ever  ventured.  I  have  obscured  myself 
In  pitiless  cold  such  that  thy  essences 
To  meet,  would  fly  asunder. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

In  a  dream. 

SEBASTIAN  (praying) 
Have  mercy  on  us ! 

MINSTREL 

Take  thou  thy  Love's  hand 

NORA  (drawing  nearer) 
It  lies  in  his. 


ROSE   OF   THE   WIND  29 

MINSTREL  (playing) 

A  midnight  power  now 

Has  snatched  thy  essence.  Thy  enchanted  thought 
Is  ridden  by  a  tune  and  in  thy  flesh 
My  music  trembles.  Now  a  vast  sweet  air 
Blows  in  on  thee  and  it  will  have  thee  hence 
To  be  an  element.  .  .  .  Wouldst  thou  escape  ? 
Then  cleave  unto  the  cross. 

NORA  (clinging  to  MINSTREL,  still  tranced) 

I  cleave  to  the  cross. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

A  dream! 

SEBASTIAN  (praying) 
Have  mercy  on  us  ! 

MINSTREL 

(Harp  playing  of  its  own  accord  while  he  draws 
NORA  to  him.) 

Is  this  the  love 
That  ruleth  all  things  ?  Lie  thou  on  my  breast. 

NORA  (clinging  to  his  bosom,  speaking  from  a  dream) 

I  lie  in  the  bosom  of  God  and  round  about 
I  see  the  plumage  of  the  great  white  birds 


3o  ROSE    OF   THE   WIND 

That  shine  and  sing  forever  around  God's  heart 
And  are  the  angels  — 

SEBASTIAN  (starting  up  in  despair) 

O  thou  God  of  Lovel 

MINSTREL  (playing) 

Is  this  the  love  that  ruleth  all  things  ?    Dance ! 
(They  approach  the  door) 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (dapping  her  hands) 

Out!  Out! 

(They  go  forth  into  the  night) 

SEBASTIAN 

Oh  sacred  power  of  the  Cross  I 
How  thou  hast  failed  me ! 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (mirthfully) 

Come  to  me  —  Beautiful ! 
And  sit  upon  my  hearth  and  tell  me  things, 
Now  that  the  woman  leaves  us. 

SEBASTIAN 

What 's  a  prayer  ? 

That  can  be  spellbound  unto  earth — yes,  snared 
In  the  fowler's  net  and  never  fly  to  Heaven ! 
(Rushes  toward  door) 


ROSE   OF   THE   WIND  31 

I  will  go  after  her!  No  mountain  steep, 
No  deep  divide,  no  gulf,  no  seas  shall  keep 
My  love  from  me  — 

(He  stops  at  threshold.) 

No  door  leads  out  to  that 
Enchanted  land  where  she  has  gone.  It  lies 
In  a  pale  world  of  thought  and  I  must  find 
Some  secret  road  of  dreams,  imaginings, 
Ways  spiritual  — 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (going  to  him) 

Oh  look  !  Thine  eyes  are  wet! 
(He  puts  her  from  him.) 
Sebastian,  speak  to  me ! 

SEBASTIAN 

Thou  foam  of  evil ! 
Why  dost   thou  linger?  Speak!     What   greater 

sorrow 
Wilt  thou  bring  upon  my  house  ? 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

I?  Sorrow?  No* 
I  am  the  one  that  laughs  eternally 
Outside  of  good,  and  free  —  darting  in  light. 
My  inner  self  sits  laughing  in  a  dell 


32  ROSE   OF   THE   WIND 

All  golden,  underneath  a  blossoming  tree 
From  which  the  golden  flowers  fall  down,  adown, 
The  golden  flowers  fall  down  1 

SEBASTIAN  (bitterly) 
Thou  hast  brought  me  only  tears ! 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (caressing  his  cheek) 

Tears  ?  What  are  they  ? 
(Drawing  back  her  hand.) 

What 's  this  upon  my  hand  !  It  fell  from  you ! 
Is  it  a  tear  ? 

SEBASTIAN 

Poor  alien  !  Yes  ! 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

It  shines! 

How  beautiful !  I  think  there  is  nothing  at  all 
In  my  own  country  half  as  sweet  and  small ! 
Where  did  it  come  from  ? 

SEBASTIAN 

Out  of  sorrow,  waif — 
That  God  has  brought  to  me  to  minister  to ! 
Out  of  deep  grief. 


ROSE   OF   THE  WIND  33 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

I  wish  I  had  some  tears 
For  all  my  own.  Wilt  thou  not  give  me  thine  ? 

SEBASTIAN 

Thou  could st  not  take  them  from  me. 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

No  ?  And  why  ? 

SEBASTIAN 

Thou  dost  not  love  me. 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

But  I  do. 

SEBASTIAN 

Frail  child! 
'T  is  but  a  word  to  thee ! 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

The  fairies  love ! 

I  like  to  see  thee  by  me,  hear  thy  voice, 
And  have  thee  see  me. 

SEBASTIAN 

'T  is  the  shadow  of  love  ! 


34  ROSE   OF   THE   WIND 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

But  why ! 

SEBASTIAN 

Thou  hast  no  soul ! 


ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

But  those  with  souls, 


How  do  they  love  ? 

SEBASTIAN 

They  bear  and  suffer  much 
And  take  the  tears  from  their  beloved's  eyes. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (singing  wildly) 

And  "  Oh,"  cried  the  shadow  soft  and  blue, 
"  /  travel  whither  I  will " 

,       (Grows  serious.) 
I  wish  I  had  a  soul ! 


The  price  of  it. 


SEBASTIAN 

Then  thou  must  pay 


ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

And  what  is  that? 


ROSE   OF  THE   WIND  35 

SEBASTIAN 

Pale  shred 

Of  moonbeams  and  of  darkness,  thou  must  do 
For  him  thou  lovest  some  action  that  shall  rend 
As  't  were  the  flesh  from  off  thy  bones,  and  laugh 
For  its  dear  hardness. 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

I  know  not  what  you  mean  — 
Yet  I  would  know  — 

SEBASTIAN 

Then  kneel  before  the  cross. 


nces. 


ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

I  cannot  touch  it  !  —  Fool !  thou  mockest  me  ! 
An  element  can  only  touch  gross  matters 
Through  charms  and  spells  and  secret  influen 
I  am  a  shadow  and  cannot  come  so  close 
As  to  lay  a  hand  on  it. 

SEBASTIAN 

Then  pray. 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

I  cannot ! 
And  that  thou  knowest  also ! 


36  ROSE   OF   THE   WIND 

(She  goes  towards  the  crucifix  but  retreats  as 
if  impelled  by  some  outer  power) 

No!  No!  No! 

I  cannot  look  at  it.  It  drives  me  back  ! 
Oh  I  was  wrong  to  venture  among  men  ! 
I  must  flee   from   it.  My  sprite  must  fare  clean 

through 
The  soft  thick  substance  of  the  wall ! 

( The  fire  burns  with  great  brightness  and  the 
shadow  of  the  cross,  tall  and  spectral,  looms 
plainly  on  the  wall  behind  her.  She  is  re 
treating  towards  it,  unwittingly,  through  the 
remainder  of  her  speech.) 

Back!  Back! 

I  '11  not  approach  thee !  In  the  world  of  men 
They  say  there 's  no  escaping  it ;  that  where 
They  go  it  still  is  there,  and  they  must  seek  it, 
For  it  is  strong  as  Love's  own  self!  But  love, 
I  have  seen,  is  not  so  strong.  I  am  a  shadow ! 
Let  men  be  moved  by  substance  but  not  I 
That  am  touched  by  shadows  only. 

Soon  shall  I  slip 

Soft  through  the  wood  of  your  wall  and  be  out 
side 
And  alien  once  more !  .  .  . 

(As  if  in  pain) 

Ah!  — What  is  this? 


ROSE   OF  THE   WIND  37 

(She  has  retreated  to  the  wall  and  crouches,  not 

knowing  it,  at  the  foot  of  the  shadow  cross.) 
Where  am  I  ?  What  has  happened  ?  Upon  me 
Strangeness  has  fallen ! 

SEBASTIAN  (in  awe) 

The  shadow  of  the  cross ! 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (in  deep  suffering) 

I  cannot  move  from  it !   Oh,  what  was  I 

But  a  bright  nothing  I  Seeming  gathered  and  shaped 

From  windy  elements  and  glittering  lights 

That  blaze  and  are  not !  I  was  the  void,  seen 

By  eyes  of  men  that  weave  a  loveliness 

With  naught  behind  it.  A  breath  of  nothingness ! 

That  blown  across  your  faces,  cold,  did  get 

A  warmth  out  of  your  bosoms !   I  have  perched 

Like  laughter  on  the  lips  of  dying  men, 

And  they  have  cried, "  The  Void."  But  I  was  not. 

I  have  flitted  in  sharp  light  across  men's  eyes 

And  they  have  chased  me  and  have  traveled  far 

From  God  for  me !  And  lo,  I  was  not !  Then 

I  have  laid  a  subtle  hand  upon  their  souls 

And  they  have  bled  beneath  my  touch  and  cried, 

"There  is  no  God  in  Heaven,"  and  behold, 

I  was  not !  But  a  change  has  come  upon  me  !  — 

And  God,  that  bids  even  nothingness  to  serve, 


38  ROSE    OF   THE   WIND 

Has  bound  me,  that  was  nothing.  I  remember 
How  I  have  heard  that,  in  the  beginning,  God 
Did  set  his  eye  on  emptiness  and  made 
A  sweet  earth  of  it.  So  even  upon  me, 
The  denial  of  his  Being,  emptiness, 
The  Shaper  has  laid  hold,  so  I  must  be 
A  word  out  of  his  mouth  to  say  "  He  is  "  ! 
Oh,  bitter,  bitter !  .  .  . 

(A  moment  of  supreme  anguish  and  she  raises  her 
head  in  wonder,  with  an  exalted  countenance.) 

Now  at  last  I  see!  ... 
I  see! 

SEBASTIAN  (in  awe) 
What  seest  thou  ? 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (transfigured) 

Love  !  .  .  .  Come  thou  to  me  ! 
(SEBASTIAN  approaches  her.  She  holds  up  her  hands.) 
I  hold  my  hands  up  to  thee,  for  the  soul 
Now  born  within  me  needs  a  gift  to  make 
Me  beautiful — for  Love!  For  now  my  need 
Is  but  to  grow  more  beautiful. 

SEBASTIAN 

Strange  spirit — 
How  can  I  help  thee ! 


ROSE   OF   THE   WIND  39 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

It  is  well  with  thee 

To  give  me  what  I  ask,  for  it  will  ease  thee, 
And  I  desire  it  deeply. 

SEBASTIAN 

Tell  me. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

See! 

I  lift  my  hands  up  to  thee — like  a  cup 
Sphered  for  the  water  of  life  !  I  love  thee  so. 
Lo  —  in  my  hands  I  will  receive  thy  tears ! 

SEBASTIAN  (tenderly) 
They  could  not  hold  my  tears.' 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

Yet  give  them  me. 

SEBASTIAN 

I  cannot  give  them. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

Why? 

SEBASTIAN 

But  thou  canst  take. 


40  ROSE   OF  THE   WIND 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

How  —  Beautiful  ? 

SEBASTIAN 

Child  —  if  thou  bringest  back 
My  bride  —  my  best  Beloved. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

If  she  comes 
There  will  be  a  woman  in  thy  house. 

SEBASTIAN 

Yes,  child. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

And  thou  wilt  love  her  ? 

SEBASTIAN 

Yes. 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

And  more  than  me  ? 

SEBASTIAN 

I  would  need  to  love  her  more. 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

Then  could  my  hands 


Gather  up  all  thy  tears? 


ROSE   OF   THE   WIND  41 

SEBASTIAN 

Then  in  thy  heart 
Mine  own  would  leave  its  tears. 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

I  will  not  do  it  ! 

I  will  not  do  it  !  —  and  yet  —  what  is  this  need 
That  drives  me  where  I  would  not  ? 
{Song  is  heard  outside.*) 


And  "  Ob"  cried  the  shadow  soft  and  blue, 
"  /  travel  whither  I  will." 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

I  '11  call  her  back. 
(She  calls.) 

Back  —  Brother  of  the  Air  !  Lead  home  again 
The  woman  thou  hast  with  thee  ! 

(The  door  opens  and  the  MINSTREL  enters,  still 
playing,  with  NORA.) 

NORA  (dreaming) 

My  feet  are  streams 

That  shine  through  flowering  meads.  I  am  lying  hid 
A  thousand  years  beneath  the  blossoming  tree 
Whose  leaves  sing  out  like  birds. 


42  ROSE    OF   THE   WIND 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND    (tO  MlNSTREL) 

Oh  cease  thy  tune. 
(He  continues  playing.) 

NORA 

Upon  a  bed  of  milk-white  blossoms  laid, 
Sweetness  falls  on  me,  unto  which  men's  slumber 
Is  discord  harsh.  At  mid-noon  I  will  eat 
A  mellow  fruit  and  live  a  thousand  years, 
Dancing  along  a  starlight,  and  will  sleep, 
And  wake,  and  live  a  thousand  years  again, 
And  yet  once  more  will  sleep. 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND  (to  MlNSTREL) 

I  beg  of  thee, 
Stop  thou  thy  tune. 

NORA 

(MINSTREL  continues  bis  playing  and  NORA  is 
still  entranced.) 

They  say  that  far  away 
In  a  dim  country,  once  I  loved  a  man 
Whose  name  I  have  forgotten.  JTis  not  so, 
But  wreathed  with  lights  moon-pale  I  dance  and 

sing 

Under  a  blossoming  tree.  The  flowers  fall  down. 
The  golden  flowers  fall  down,  adown,  adown. 


ROSE   OF   THE   WIND  43 

MINSTREL  (leading  to  the  door) 
Beautiful  —  wouldst  thou  stay  ? 

NORA   (following) 

No  —  I  would  go. 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

She  would  not  follow  thee  —  save  for  the  shoes 
That  dance  in  spite  of  her  —  and  they  are  mine ! 
I  pray  you  give  them  back. 

MINSTREL 

Take  them. 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

Then  cease 
Thy  tune  and  stop  her  dancing.  Wilt  thou  ? 

MINSTREL 

Aye! 
If  thou  wilt  do  the  thing  I  ask. 

ROSE    OF    THE    WIND 

I  will. 
(The  MINSTREL  quiets  bis  music  till  it  fades  away.*) 

NORA  (as  if  waking) 

The  light  fades  from  the  sky.  A  thousand  leaves 
Fall  from  the  tree  of  life.  No  more,  no  more, 


44  ROSE   OF  THE   WIND1 

The  birds  sing  in  them.  All  grows  pale  and  thin 
And  is  not  any  longer.   Do  I  sleep  ? 
Or  waken  ? 

SEBASTIAN  (taking  her  in  bis  arms) 
Nora! 

NORA  (clinging  to  him) 

Sebastian  —  tell  me  where 
I  have  been  this  night. 

SEBASTIAN 

Take  off  the  accursed  shoes. 

NORA  (in  wonder  taking  them  of) 
Thou  madest  them. 

SEBASTIAN 

They  are  magic. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

They  are  spun 
Of  lights  and  laughters. 

NORA 

Virgin  Mary ! 


ROSE   OF  THE   WIND  45 

SEBASTIAN  (giving  her  those  he  had  made) 

Here  — 
Stout  Christian  leather! 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (not  moving  from  the  shadow 
cross) 

Give  me  back  again 
The  little  shoes  I  lent  thee. 

(Receives  them.) 

MINSTREL 

Dost  thou  remember 
What  I  required  of  thee  ? 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

Ask  it. 

MINSTREL 

Cast 
Thy  shoes  upon  the  flames. 


ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

What  ?  burn  my  shoes  ? 


I  will  not  do  it. 


MINSTREL  (play ing 
Then  — 


46  ROSE    OF   THE   WIND 

NORA  (to  SEBASTIAN,  trembling) 

Oh  hold  me  close. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

But  wait !  If  I  should  burn  them,  never  more 
Shall  my  feet  dance  along  the  slope  of  the  wind 
Close  to  the  dark  crevasses  of  the  night, 
Along  the  freezing  glacier  light  of  stars, 
Me  chill  and  beautiful  as  uplifted  snow 
That  hath  a  shape  to  it.  Nor  shall  I  plunge 
Into  the  darkness,  sinking  my  body  deep 
Into  oblivion  such  as  the  soul  of  man 
Having  come  nigh  to,  disbelieves.  No  more 
Shall  I  trip  lightly  over  the  beamy  floor 
Of  wind  stretched  over  golden  fields  of  wheat 
Nor  climb  the  winding  turrets  of  the  air 
To  look  from  windows  high  and  darkly  set 
In  the  thick  bastions  of  the  night.   No  more 
Shall  I  smile  through  the  sea  and  shapen  sweet 
As  silvery  ripples,  sink  and  sing  and  float 
And  stream  where  the  moon  leadeth.   I  cannot  run 
Through  solid  earth,  melt  lightly  through  a  stone, 
And  leave  behind  me  like  a  thin  blue  smoke 
The  curling  wreaths  of  substance.  Nor  can  I  steal 
Soft  through  the  hearts  of  men  and  pluck  the  fruit 
That  in  their  Souls'  sweet  Paradise  doth  grow 


ROSE   OF   THE   WIND  47 

Upon  the  Tree  of  Life,  leaving  it  bare, 
With  naught  to  feed  upon  ;  nor  snatch  from  them 
Their  secret  laughters,  and  their  wisdom  take 
So  that  they  go  astray  — 

Shall  I  do  this  ? 

And  for  the  sake  of  tears !   Oh  what  are  tears 
That  my  soul  must  needs  demand  them ! 

MINSTREL 

Burn  thy  shoes  — 

As  thou  hast  pledged  me  —  or  else  depart  with  me 
And  see  man's  face  no  more  and  I  will  bind  thee 
So  that  thou  shalt  not  grieve. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (not  heeding  him) 

They  say  that  tears 
Will  make  our  souls  more  beautiful  — 

Nay  then 

I  do  bethink  me.  Should  I  take  this  spirit 
God  gives  to  mortals,  then  must  I  also  take 
Mortality  upon  me.  I  must  yield 
My  airy  sweetness  that  can  still  defy 
Changes  and  seasons  and  I  must  breathe  out 
My  windy  cleanness  and  take  in  vaporous  death. 
I  must  weave  round  me  cast-off  old  despairs 
And  ancient  sorrow,  and  let  disaster  creep 
Through  all  my  subtle  flesh.   My  unveiled  eyes 


48  ROSE   OF   THE   WIND 

That  now  survey  all  time  I  must  submit 
Unto  confusions,  with  my  wits  involve 
Bewilderments  and  let  my  heart  accept 
Tears  —  beautiful  strange  tears! 
(As  if  stifled^ 

Oh  this  dim  air, 

That  is  so  full  of  sorrow,  weighs  me  down ! 
And  if  I  take  on  me  the  grosser  stuff, 
Astonished  at  the  darkness  I  shall  grope 
Like  one  gone  blind  and  I  shall  sin  and  fall 
Into  disfavor  with  great  God.   Oh  then 
If  all  my  essence  in  fierce  flame  should  hiss 
Like  dew  immortal  — 

(Looking  at  SEBASTIAN.) 

And  for  what  ?  That  thou 

Mayst  love  this  woman  best  !    Hadst  thou  a  heart 
For  me  —  oh  gladly  would  I  then  forsake 
My  brighter  being.   I  would  sicken  for  thee! 
For  this  be  freely  damned.   But  it  would  bring 
Only   more    laughter  to  me  —  me  —  who    have 

laughed 
From  the  beginning — 

(Grappling  with  the  shadow  of  the  cross.) 

OfF  from  me,  fearful  shade  ! 
That  hast  so  bound  me  ... 

Still  my  soul  implores 
Her  heritage  of  tears. 


ROSE    OF   THE   WIND  49 

MINSTREL  (playing  and  singing) 

And  "O£,"  cried  the  heart,  as  it  flew  like  a  bird, 
"  /  travel  wherever  I  will" 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

Thou  shalt  not  charm  me. 

For  what  my  soul  requires  —  that  shall  she  have, 
Though  I  serve  bleeding  .  .  . 

Christ !  I  kiss  my  shoes  ! 

They  are  such  pretty  ones.  They  took  my  feet 
Upon  such  starry  journeys. 

(Casts  them  into  the  fire,  still  crouching  by  the 
shadow  cross.  As  the  shoes  burn,  the  fire  blazes 
with  wonderful  glory.  Strange  dancing  lights 
and  splendors  fill  the  room,  which  suggest  in 
tneir  shapes  gar  lands,  flowers,  trees.  There  is 

wild  music.) 

Burn !  In  flames 

Depart,  my  powers  !   For  shod  in  you  I  see 
My  supernatural  glory  dance  away. 
Aye,  bid  them  with  thy  music  once  again, 
While  they  dance  out  to  death. 
(The  light  fades.) 

MINSTREL  (at  the  door) 

Farewell  —  new  mortal ! 
Never  again  beneath  the  blossoming  tree 


50  ROSE    OF   THE   WIND 

Shall  we  run  all  together  !  — Away  !  Away! 
I  must  be  gone  !  *T  is  midnight. 

(Opens  door  and  lets  in  long  moonbeam,  which 
falls  across  ROSE  OF  THE  WIND.  She  rises 
and  steps  into  the  glory) 

Hail !  my  fellows  ! 

(A  brief  glimpse  through  the  door  of  dancing 
shapes.    He  rushes  out  amid  music^  closing 
door.) 
Away !   Away ! 

(SEBASTIAN  and  NORA  stand  motionless  in  each 
other's  arms.) 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (approaching  them  wistfully) 

Now  we  are  left  alone. 
Speak  to  me,  kind  Sebastian. 

SEBASTIAN  (not  hearing) 

I  love  thee,  Nora. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

Speak  to  me,  sister. 

NORA  (not  hearing) 

I  love  thee,  oh  Sebastian. 


ROSE    OF   THE   WIND  51 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (turning  away) 

How  cold  I  am  —  the  fire  is  very  low. 
I  '11  lay  a  log  upon  it,  lest  they  feel 
The  chill.   How  heavy !  Once  I  had  lifted  it 
With  the  tip  of  a  finger.  Ah,  I  had  forgot 
I  had  grown  human.  Yet  I'll  lift. 

(She  heaves   up  from    the  fireside  a  huge  log 
rudely  twisted  in  a  shape  suggesting  a  cross.) 

The  weight ! 

(Sinking  with  it  to  the  floor.) 
Beautiful !  —  Speak  to  me  !   I  am  alone 
And  know  not  one  among  you.  May  I  bide 
Beneath  your  thatch  awhile  ?  I  Jll  serve  you  both 
And  eat  —  so  little.  Only  let  my  feet 
Grow  heavy,  running  for  you.  Only  let 
My  hands  grow  hard  —  that  are  so  soft  —  to  serve 

you. 

Teach  me  to  bring  the  wood,  to  draw  the  water, 
To  call  the  sheep  at  dusk.  Oh  I  would  learn 
What  things  would  please  you.  Look,  I  can  lift 
logs! 

(Again  she  falls  beneath  the  burden.) 
But  oh,  the  weight !  .  .  . 

I  am  a  beggar — see! 

Barefooted,  even  !  —  Speak  to  me  —  Beautiful ! 
Speak  to  me  —  kind  Sebastian. 


52  ROSE   OF  THE   WIND 

SEBASTIAN  (gazing  at  NORA) 

I  love  thee,  Nora. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

Speak  to  me  —  sister. 

NORA  (gazing  at  SEBASTIAN) 

I  love  thee,  oh  Sebastian ! 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

They  do  not  hear  me.  But  I  think  that  God 

Hears  in  my  heart  the  sound  of  tears. 

Nay  then, 

I  will  not  listen  to  them  !  Why  should  I  weep 
That  these  rejoice  ?  Can  I  not  find  again 
The  old  primeval  laughter  ? 

What  wouldst  thou  have  — 
My  soul  —  that  begged  for  tears  ?   What  wouldst 

thou  more  ? 

That  I  should  laugh  ?  —  Then  I  will  learn  the  way 
Back  to  rejoicing.  .  .  . 

Look  —  I  mend  their  fire. 
(Strives  again  with  log.) 
I  have  so  far  to  carry  it ! 

(Sinks  beneath  it.) 

I  'm  tired. 


ROSE   OF   THE  WIND  53 

So  very  tired  !   Speak  to  me,  Beautiful. 
Speak  to  me  —  kind  Sebastian. 

SEBASTIAN  (gazing  at  NORA) 

I  love  thee,  Nora. 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND 

Speak  to  me — sister. 

NORA  (gazing  at  SEBASTIAN) 

I  love  thee,  oh  Sebastian! 

ROSE  OF  THE  WIND  (gazing  at  them  with  supreme 
love) 

Are  they  not  beautiful !  Dear  God  in  Heaven — 
He  laughs  to  see  them  and  the  angels  laugh  !  .  .  . 
And  I  laugh  too  !  .  .  . 

(Falls  on   her  knees^  holding  up  both  hands  in 
form  of  a  cup) 

They  have  given  me  their  tears ! 


NIMROD 
PART  I 

ONE  time,  in  Shinar,  when  the  setting  sun, 
With  all  his  thousand  javelins,  drove  the  day 
Before  him  and  the  myriad  tribes  of  light 
Departed  sullenly  with  bleeding  feet, 
Great  Nimrod,  the  strong  huntsman  of  the  Lord: 
Returning  hot  with  bloodshed  from  the  chase, 
Beheld  great  Babel,  wrathful,  beautiful, 
Burn  like  a  blood-red  cloud  upon  the  plain. 
Then  Nimrod,  when  he  saw  it,  laughed  aloud, 
And  turning  to  his  warriors  cried,  "Behold 
How  those  steep  battlements  defy  the  cloud 
With  starry  dome  and  precipice  of  brass. 
Their  sword-like  minarets  have  stabbed  the  sun. 
What  fiery  ledge,  what  blazing  battlement, 
What  savage  bastion  flushed  with  angry  gold 
Bulwarks  the  dreadful  bright  acropolis  ! 
Look  how  yon  crags  of  bronze,  fantastic,  burn 
In  God's  great  conflagration,  not  consumed, 
Imperishable;  but  built  of  flaming  cloud 
His  high  pavilions  perish.  Lo,  how  strong 
Yon  citadel  of  stone  !   Is  it  not  great  ? 


NIMROD  55 

Is  it  not  ribbed  with  sinew?  Flanked  with  war? 
Are  not  its  ramparts  beautiful  ?  Lo  now 
Whose  is  the  city?"  And  his  warrior  chiefs 
Saw  how  its  arrowy  splendors  smote  the  light 
And  how  its  ledges,  gorges,  furious  cliffs, 
And  all  its  savage  multitudinous  crags 
Besieged  the  silent  sky ;  then,  being  amazed, 
Gazing  upon  such  splendors,  answered,  "Thine." 

For  it  had  come  on  Nimrod,  in  the  waste, 
That  he  should  build  a  huge  metropolis 
For  Bathsheba  the  queen.   And  it  was  built. 
Its  strong  foundations  were  sunken  in  deep  rock, 
And  on  the  walls  were  graven  mighty  shapes. 
For  Nimrod  had  gone  forth  and  laid  his  hand 
Upon  the  barren  stones  and  they  were  runed 
With  ancient  script,  embodiment  of  words 
That  once  were  heard  in  Babel  —  such  utterance 
As  when  before  the  flood  the  sons  of  God 
Spoke  to  men's  daughters,  or  when  on    the  sheer 

marge 

Of  time  stood  Adam  and  with  august  cries 
Saluted  nature  —  star,  sun,  cloud,  earth,  moon, 
Bright  angels,  wondering  beasts  —  and  from   his 

lips 

Shook  huge  ejaculations,  piercing  calls 
Of  keen  astonishment,  smooth  murmuring  tones 


56  NIMROD 

When  he  gazed  forth  on  beauty,  and  when  he  saw 
Eve,  in  her  whiteness,  the  first  awful  word 
Whereby  a  man  cried  unto  a  woman  his  love. 
Such  was  the  speech  of  Babel.  These  words  re 
vealed 

Men's  hearts  to  one  another.   For  the  earth 
Had  been  made  spiritual  and  with  waters  purged 
Of  ancient  wrong  and  grief.  Man  was  new  made. 
Not  innocent  as  in  Eden  —  oh  not  fresh 
With  Paradisal  sweetness  —  but  grown  wise 
And  taught  by  the  sons  of  God,  they  set  their 

minds 

To  august  ends  and  great.  So  had  they  left 
Strong  nations  in  the  desert  and  multiplied 
Like  myriad  hordes  of  sand  and  they  had  raised 
Their  thoughts  to  beauty  and  conceived  high  deeds, 
Truths,  honors,  valors,  heroisms,  loves, 
Faiths,  aspirations,  sacrifices,  prayers, 
And  unto  them  had  built  a  beauteous  speech, 
Revealing  all  things  truly.    For  not  yet 
Was  mortal  falseness  harbored  in  their  thought. 
Imagination  had  not  dreamed  of  this. 
Not  yet  the  bastions  of  high  Heaven  had  rocked 
Beneath  that  onslaught.   God's  deepest  angels  hid 
In  placid  innocence  had  never  yet 
Shed  tears  of  nameless  grief  nor  their  warm  wings 
Grown  chill  with  that  cold  vapor  from  the  earth. 


NIMROD  57 

No  man  had  learned  how  vessels  of  sweet  tone, 
Blessed  for  the  sacred  wine  of  truth,  might  lift 
To  trusting  lips  abominable  drink. 
No  man  on  earth  had  lied  ;  but  words,  fair-shaped, 
Blushed  with  the  spirit's  sense,  fluid  as  thought. 
Priest-like    their    speech    moved    on    its   ancient 

task, 

The  sacred  ceremonials  of  the  truth. 
For  with   that   speech  great  prophets  known  of 

old 

With  glowing  symbols  uttered  secrets  hid ; 
Wonderful  doctrines  of  stars,  suns,  and  moons; 
Litanies  of  the  seasons ;  hidden  charms 
Wherewith  the  earth  works  miracles ;  the  spells 
Of  soft  angelic  water;  the  rich  creeds 
Of  deeply  brooding  air  entranced  at  noon ; 
High  versicles  that  from  the  lips  of  time 
Spake  of  the  eternal ;  runes  of  numbers,  shapes, 
And  all  the  myriad  moving  powers  that  build 
The  architecture  of  the  world.  These  words 
Shone  in  the  lucid  firmaments  of  thought, 
The  bright  melodious  orbs  of  heavenly  speech. 
And  Nimrod  traced  their  shadows  in  dark  script. 
For  he  inscribed  upon  his  brassy  walls 
Marvelous  symbols  stranger  than  the  sphinx 
Breeding  eternal  secrets;  gorgeous  shapes, 
Bright-blazoned,  beautiful ;  letters,  that  as  thick 


58  NIMROD 

As  footprints  of  innumerable  slaves, 
Swept  on  the  stately  caravans  of  thought ; 
And  there  were  signs  and  symbols,  deeply  carved, 
Rich  characters  that  wreathed  like  thick-set  vines 
Yielded  a  mortal  vintage  of  sweet  tone 
Whereof  the  juice  was  wisdom,  and  God's  sons, 
When  they  had  drunk  of  it,  forevermore 
Must  go  enraptured  ;  jungles  of  black  script, 
Where  howling  in  the  wilderness  like  beasts 
Ranged  forth  the  dreadful  wisdoms  of  the  Lord. 
And  there  were  dark  and  dreaming  hieroglyphs, 
Beautiful,  old,  occult,  in  which  were  breathed 
As  was  God's  wind  into  the  clay,  grave  sounds, 
Angelic  musics,  syllables  austere. 

But  when  Bathsheba  saw  those  histories, 
How  manifold,  and  how  from  out  those  signs 
Spoke  prophecies  and  powers,  and  how  the  bronze 
Was  dark  with  secret  knowledge  and  such  creeds 
As  Nimrod  heard  from  mighty  men  of  old, 
She  was  astonished,  and  to  her  Lord  she  cried, 
"  Art  thou  not  great   in   Babel  ?    Art   thou   not 

wise  ? 

Hast  thou  not  learned  to  read  the  ancient  sign 
God  writes  upon  the  wind  ?   Do  not  thy  words 
Like  dawn  upon  the  mountain  peaks  make  plain 
God's  will  before  us  ?  Is  not  thy  casual  speech 


NIMROD  59 

Beautiful  to  us  ?  When  thou  dost  comfort  us 
With  thy  deep  wisdom,  do  our  souls  not  feast  ? 
Dost  thou  not  cast  thy  voice  abroad  like  thun 
der 

To  teach  His  law  to  us  ?   From  His  cloudy  speech 
Thou  hast  snatched    the  fires   of   His  meaning 

down. 

Lo,  now,  thou  hast  transcribed  for  us  His  lore 
And  graved  His  ancient  spelling  on  the  stone. 
Thou  art  great  Nimrod.  Where  then  is  the  Word 
That  burns  forever  on  the  midmost  page 
Of  God's  most  secret  book,  in  Heaven  set  deep  ? 
What  is  it  ?  Canst  thou  say  it  ?   How  long  shall 

earth 

Groan  with  the  lack  of  it,  that  utterance 
Whereby  all  things  grow  beautiful,  that  Word 
That  being  spoken,  the  angels  at  the  gates 
Shall  drop  their  flaming  swords,  and  we  return 
Into  that  Eden  —  which  they  tell  us  of — 
Lost  in  the  forests  of  the  dawn  !   Go  thou, 
And  learn  that  secret  wisdom  from  the  Lord. 
Then,  when  thou  hast  revealed  it,  never  more 
Shall  our  flesh  wither,  and  our  souls  put  on 
Sackcloth  and  ashes.  In  shapes  fulfilled  of  light 
We  shall  attain  God's  likeness.  Never  again 
Shall  sorrow  be  upon  us  nor  affliction 
Make  in  our  flesh  its  lair.   But  death  shall  set 


60  NIMROD 

His  face  away  from  us.  And  them  shalt  grow 
Ancient  in  years  and  beautiful  with  time. 
And  I  will  bear  thee  harvests  of  strong  males, 
And  thou  and  all  thy  sons  shall  be  as  Kings." 
Then  Nimrod  spoke  to  Bathsheba,  the  queen, 
"  From  out  the  midmost  page  of  that  dark  book 
God  sets  in  His  deep  Heaven,  I  will  bring  down 
To  thee  the  blazing  fires  of  the  Word 
Whereby  this  earth  shall  be  lit  up  and  shine 
As  with  fierce  conflagration.  Then  indeed 
Our  souls  shall  be  enlightened.  Then  our  flesh 
Shall  blush  with  joy  under  the  waning  moon. 
Then  death  shall  turn  his  face  away.  No  more 
Shall  sorrow  be  upon  us  nor  affliction 
Make  in  our  flesh  its  lair.  But  thou  shalt  grow 
Ancient  in  years  and  beautiful  with  time. 
And  I  will  lead  thee  back  where  Eden  glows 
Like  dawn  across  the  desert.   Am  I  not  he 
That  when  he  speaks,  all  hearing  are  astonished  ? 
Do  not  my  words  teach  wisdom  ?   Does  not  my 

speech 

Cast  scourges  on  the  unrighteous  ?   But  on  them 
That  fear  the  Lord  is  not  mine  utterance 
Sweet  as  the  rain  at  noon  ?  Am  I  not  Nimrod  ? 
Lo,  thou  shalt  bear  me  harvests  of  strong  males, 
And  I,  and  all  my  sons,  shall  be  as  Kings." 


NIMROD  6 1 

PART    II 

And  Nimrod  looked  on  Babel  and  beheld 
How  beautiful  it  was,  and  how  it  glowed, 
A  rose  of  splendor,  burning  on  the  plain. 
And  in  his  heart  the  king  conspired  to  build 
Sweeter  and  lovelier  spires,  more  smiling  fanes 
Than  ever  yet  had  been  upon  the  earth 
And  such  vast  arches  as  not  yet  had  been, 
But  that  with  mortal  beauty  should  persuade 
The  immortal  angels,  wondering,  to  explore 
Those   beauteous    vaults    of  glimmering   marble 

made, 

Hollowed  of  whiteness  like  the  sphered  moon, 
Roofed  terribly  with  arched  and  blazing  wings; 
Walls  like  the  bosoms  of  the  Cherubim; 
And  milk-white  pavements,  clear  and  richly  pale 
Like  alabaster,  but  of  starrier  stone, 
Swimming  with  many  a  floating  sweetness,  shed 
From  many  a  violet-colored  robe  and  green, 
Or  rosy  foot,  or  viol  shaped  of  gold. 
There  should  be  laughter  heard  —  angelic  guests 
At  pastime  with  the  queen  —  and  they  should  play, 
With  plumed  wings  and  innocent  grave  smiles 
And  silvery  footfalls  in  the  chastened  groves; 
And  with  God's  smile  upon  them,  they  should  speak 
To  men  His  secret  Wisdom  from  the  Book. 


62  NIMROD 

Oh,  it  should  be  like  Paradise  new  made 

And  God  himself  should  walk  with  them  at  eve. 

And  it  was  builded  and  there  moved  the  Queen. 

But  if  the  angels  in  celestial  games 

Down  those  calm  alleys  wandering,  around 

The  rosy  pillars  swept  their  golden  plumes, 

No  pale  reflection  of  their  dancing  feet 

With  starry  sweetness  pleased  the  placid  stone. 

But  still  the  polished,  pale,  white  pavement  shone 

Like  smoothed  water  tranced  with  many  a  moon, 

And  if  they  came  they  tarried  there  unseen. 

Then,  in  the  streets  of  Babel,  Nimrod  made 

A  feast  before  the  Lord,  and  Bathsheba 

Led  forth  the  women;  and  with  shawms  blown 

loud, 

With  trumpet  and  with  cymbal,  they  declared 
The  greatness  of  Jehovah;  but  Nimrod  went, 
And  sought  the  Lord  on  a  high  mountain  peak, 
And  standing  with  uplifted  arms,  he  raised, 
In  great  and  fearful  cries,  his  voice  to  God. 
And  Nimrod  cried  aloud,  "  Lord,  I  am  he 
That  crouched  alone  in  the  desert.  Among  rocks 
I  herded  with  the  wolves.  Then  did  I  seek 
To  build  unto  my  people  a  strong  town, 
With  bulwarks  of  firm  rock.  Then  did  I  heave 
My  shoulder  to  the  stone.  Lord,  I  have  set 


NIMROD  63 

My  citadel  upon  the  plain ;  and  lest 

My  people  go  astray,  I  have  inscribed 

Upon  my  brassy  walls  bright  characters 

Uttering  knowledge.  With  a  thousand  tongues 

My  walls  proclaim  Thee.  But  that  Wisdom,  Lord, 

That  burns  forever  on  the  midmost  page, 

Of  thy  great  Book  the  awful  hieroglyph  — 

I  have  not  seen  nor  spoken.     Send  from  Heaven 

Thy  angel  to  us  and  I  will  learn  from  him 

Thy  sacred  Word;  and  when  upon  that  feast 

My  spirit  has  grown  wise,  lo,  I  will  turn 

My  people's  hearts  to  wisdom  and  we  shall  be 

Beautiful  nations  bourgeoning  the  plain, 

And  I  and  all  my  sons  shall  be  as  kings." 

And  he  was  silent.   But  upon  the  town 

No  voice  shook  like  thunder,  and  from  the  sky 

No  angel,  sweeping  earthward,  in  mid  air, 

Held  up  God's  burning  Word.  And  he  was  wroth, 

And  in  his  sullen  heart  defied  Jehovah. 

But  God  sent  forth  a  pale  and  spectral  host 

Of  war  horse  and  of  rider.  From  the  steeps 

And  citadels  of  cloud  on  the  horizon, 

They  mightily  plunged  upon  the  embattled  plain 

Encircled  round  great  Babel.   Blazing  scouts 

Skirmished  the  valley ;  shadowy  stallions  reared, 

Driven  by  vast  archangels,  whose  fierce  spears 

Whirling  aloft,  they  stabbed  upon  the  town. 


64  NIMROD 

A  thousand  gusty  shapes  rushed  forth  to  war. 
And  there  were  chariots  of  dust  that  drove 
Windily  down  the  plain.   Bright  meteors  lit 
Upon  them  screaming.   Built  among  the  clouds 
Were  domes  and  turrets ;  and  blazing  with  pale 

lights 

Acropolis  towered  above  acropolis. 
Then  Nimrod,    throned   upon  his  peak,  looked 

down 

To  where  the  blazing  cohorts  of  the  Lord 
Threatened  the  town  with  vengeance;  and  he  rose. 
Obscured  with  wrath  as  is  the  sun  with  cloud. 
And  like  an  engine  of  dread  war  he  set 
His  shoulder  to  the  mountain  side  and  heaved 
Its  giant  bowlders  forth  till  from  the  cliff 
With  sudden  scream,  as  if  some  savage  chief 
Would  drive  his  angry  cohorts  into  war, 
They  leaped  with   sound  of  grating  wheels  and 

plunged 

Down  the  precipitous  slope  at  God's  encampment. 
But  Nimrod,  leaping  to  the  mightiest  stone, 
Then  bounding  to  another  as  they  plunged, 
With  arms  outstretched  and  darkly  beetling  breast, 
With  angry  locks,  with  great  and  god-like  eye, 
With  furious  shouts  of  battle  and  laughter  huge, 
And  challenges  to  Heaven,  scourged  with  cries 
His  screaming  stallions  maned  with  whistling  wind 


NIMROD  65 

Goaded  the  vengeance  of  His  flinty  wheels 
That  bright  with  many  a  whirling  fire  appeared 
Bestrid    with    eyes  —  yes  —  like    the    lightning 

perched 

Upon  the  gale,  he  swept  upon  God's  hosts 
His  monstrous  cavalcades.  Then,  driving  down 
His  thousand  thundering  chariots  of  stone, 
Enraged,  enraptured,  pale,  with  bow  upraised, 
Great  Nimrod  shot  his  arrow  at  the  gods. 
And  lo,  the  heavenly  onslaught  flamed  away. 
God's  dark  encampment  lifted  from  the  plain. 
Then  there  were  rushings  heard  in  the  deep  air 
And  all  the  spectral  host  paled  from  the  sky. 

Then  Nimrod  unto  Babel  cried  aloud. 

"  Lo,  I  have  shot  in  Heaven  God's  great  white  horse ! 

With  neighings  and   fearful  tramplings  he  went 

down ! 

And  his  affrighted  angel  drifts  pale  wings 
Across  his  bosom,  lest  he  take  from  me 
The  anguish  of  mine  arrow  in  mid  air. 
Am  I  not  Nimrod?"  And  he  cried  aloud, 
"  Am  I  not  Nimrod  ?  "  Then  spoke  he  to  his  soul: 
"  Lo,  such  dark  cities  smoulder  in  my  brain 
As  light  the  air  with  terror.  I  will  achieve 
A  great  and  mighty  town  such  as  not  yet 
Has  mortal  plotted  and  no  angel  dreamed. 


66  NIMROD 

With  my  strong  ramparts  I  will  storm  the  sky  — 
Yes  —  cleave  it  with  my  turrets.  I  will  lift 
My  fortress  straight  against  God's  citadels. 
And  having  with  my  frontage  besieged  the  pale 
Frontiers  of  Heavenly  air,  then  will  I  lift 
My  slow  invasion  to  the  immortal  plains 
And  there,  defying  all  His  hosts,  will  drive 
His  bright  fleeced    whirlwinds ;  hurricanes   with 

eyes; 

His  golden-bellied  lightnings;  shaggy  thunders; 
His  meteors  that  dart  like  screaming  birds 
Among  tumultuous  forests  of  black  night ; 
All  strange  unhuman  monsters  that  frequent, 
Angelic,  brutish,  the  jungles  of  fierce  air; 
His  Silences,  that  crouch  amid  the  waste 
To  slay  who  heareth  them  beneath  the  stars 
Awakened  out  of  sleep  ;  His  awful  Noise, 
Whose  mane  is  like  a  thousand  lions'  deep, 
And   that  with   fires  doth   bristle;  His  Circum 
stance, 

His  Peradventure,  His  Go  To — all  beasts 
Furious  with  dreadful  beauty  that  He  keeps 
To  rage  with  splendor  up  and  down  this  earth ; 
His  Wars  that  move  with  such  velocity 
They  shine  as  sweet  as  simple  doves ;  His  Feign- 

ings 
Wherewith  he  shaketh  man;  His  Abominations 


NIMROD  67 

That  howl  at  night,  and  His  deep  Desolation 
That  seizeth  them  rejoicing  at  noon  day; 
His  Furies  —  Retributions  —  that  do  scream 
From  pinnacles  of  air  and  plunging  down 
Snatch  up  the  guilty  conscience,  so  they  keep 
Upon  its  living  flesh  perpetual  feast; 
Yes,  all  His  angelic  beasts  that  ravage  with  wrath 
The  deep  invisible  air,  these  will  I  slay. 
Hear  then !   On  His  own  cohorts  will  I  turn, 
And  many  a  starry  breast  shall  bleed  that  night 
And  many  a  snow-white  sweet  immortal  shape 
That  cannot  ever  die  shall  writhe  and  bend, 
Blown  up  and  down  as  windy  fires  would  burn. 
And  there  shall  be  great  tramplings,  whinneyings 
Of  winged  steeds  astonished.  Archangels  pale 
Shall  rend  their  blazing  splendors  off  and  wrapped 
In  panic  only,  seek  escape  in  night, 
To  hide  them  in  the  vastness.  The  Cherubim 
Shall   swell  their   gorgeous  eyes  with  dread.  So 

then, 

Having  dismayed  His  host,  I  will  besiege 
The  splendor  of  His  deep  acropolis, 
And  thence  will  drive  those  inner  ones  that  move 
In  garments  sweet  of  pale  serenities ; 
The  great,  mild-eyed,  most  docile,  loveliest, 
Whose  soft  meek  bodies  sing  like  great  white  birds 
Beneath  the  golden  forest  of  their  deep  wings, 


68  NIMROD 

Whereof  the  sound  is  like  a  noonday  gale, 
That  causeth  dropping  of  fruit  mild  and  strange; 
Whereof  the  sound  is  like  a  silver  fountain 
That  springeth  in  a  golden  basin; 
Whose  placid  bodies  are  like  chastened  pillars, 
Simple  transparencies  to  the  Lord,  by  which 
A  great  and  arched  roof  is  lifted  up, 
That  is  the  embracing  splendor  of  their  pinions  ; 
Whose  bodies  are  strong  as  alabaster,  shapen 
Of  pale  translucent  brightness,  limpid  stillness, 
Like  shining  water  wreathed  with  many  a  star.     : 
Oh,  as  a  star  deep  sunken  under  water, 
Their  bodies  are  sleeked  like  ivory  set  in  amber. 
Large,  peaceful,  bounteous,  their  dreamy  bodies  are. 
These,  hastening  them  along  their  happy  halls 
Reared  of  supreme  delight,  through  corridors 
With  music  paven,  till  their  ruffled  wings 
Ache  with  my  violence,  I  will  drive  forth 
Over  the  high  roads  of  high  noon  to  where 
My  earthly  citadel  shines  on  the  plain. 
So  leading  in  before  my  people's  eyes 
My  triumph  unbelievable  —  all  these 
Shall  pass,  meek-footed,  wondering,  before  Her 
That  is  my  Love,  my  Queen  —  and  they  shall  go 
Into  her  chambers  and  with  chastened  touch 
Shall  lay  their  hands  upon  my  brazen  walls 
And  marvel  at  them,  and  shall  turn  mild  eyes 


NIMROD  69 

Of  deep  astonishment  when  they  behold 
Our  human  beauty,  how  the  pride  of  man 
Has  waxed  like  cedars  where  the  stars  of  God 
Walk  forth  for  pleasure  and  His  wind  lies  down. 
And  I  will  drive  them,  if  I  will,  as  slaves 
To  build  me  huger  temples,  more  awful  fanes, 
A  terrible  citadel  from  which  to  heave 
My  flaming  battle  axe  at  God's  own  breast! 
Then  will  I  plunge  into  His  secret  place 
And  snatch  from  out  His  page  that  Hieroglyph. 
So  will  I  scourge  to  labors  beyond  thought 
The  bare  immortal  sweetness  of  their  shapes, 
Beating  with  whips  their  pale  astonished  wings, 
Or  if  it  please  me,  I  will  comfort  them  — 
Feed  them  with  mortal  fruit  and  with  my  hand 
Smooth  to  obedience  their  trembling  plumes, 
Till  their  discordant  feathers  sweetly  sing. 
Then   when   among  themselves   they  speak  and 

cry, 

And  say  to  one  another,  l  Brothers,  behold  ! 
Who  is  this  man  that  has  so  driven  us 
From  our  dear  placid  courts  !  that  with  his  thought 
Can  scourge  us  till  we  cry  or  run  to  do 
The  whispered  bidding  of  his  sleep  !  whose  wish, 
Being  raised  against  us,  fearfully  doth  blind 
With  terror  all  the  century  seeing  eyes 
That  live  among  our  wings ;  but,  being  inclined 


7o  NIMROD 

Can  soothe  our  grief !  Brothers,  who  is  this  man 

That  hath  defeated  God  and  mastered  us, 

His  great   soft  snow-white  children  ? '  —  Then 

indeed 

Shall  I  to  my  great  chamber  lead  them  in, 
Hollowed  of  splendor,  like  the  sphered  moon, 
Roofed  over  as  with  fierce  and  blood-red  wings. 
Here,  in  this  chamber,  on  a  polished  stone 
As  evidence  that  man  shall  pass  away 
But  he  whose  name  endureth  on  that  stone 
Shall  be  remembered ;   from  its  surface  springing 
Two  brazen  wings  of  aspect  terrible, 
Spreading  their  steadfast  breadth  as  if  to  lift 
The  name  inscribed  thereon    to    Heaven  j  shall 

flame 

A  monstrous  syllable,  a  symbol  strange, 
To  be  a  sign  and  evidence  of  him 
Who  built  great  Babel  in  the  empty  plain, 
The  corner-stone  and  column  of  its  greatness, 
Its  roof,  its  strong  foundation,  and  its  wall, 
Its  rose  in  a  deep  garden,  its  sweet  water 
That  is  a  wellspring  in  the  rock.   .   .   .  Lo,  now, 
I  will  go  in  and  write  thereon  my  name, 
That  my  enslaved  great  powers  shall  see  and  cry, 
*  Behold  the  man  that  snatched  God's  Word  from 

Heaven, 
Great  Nimrod  !  ' "  . 


NIMROD  71 

And  he  built  upon  the  plain 
A  mightier  city ;  and  he  raised  on  high 
Sheer  peaks  of  bronze  and  armaments  of  domes 
That   bright    with   sullen   splendor    spread    their 

shields 

Against  God's  anger.   But  the  eternal  sky 
Preserved  its  shape  in  silence  and  the  sun 
With  all  its  hosts  of  light  sped  on  its  way, 
Bright,  unappeasable.  And  God  came  down, 
Invisible,  in  radiance  panoplied, 
And  spoke  with  Nimrod.   But  Nimrod,  in  his  heart, 
Being  greatly  wroth,  hated  Him  for  His  speech. 

PART   III 

And  Nimrod  came  to  Bathsheba  the  Queen, 
And  spoke  with  her ;  but  of  that  golden  speech 
There  is  no  likeness  upon  earth  to  show 
How  mild  its  sound,  how  beauteous  its  shape. 
But  when  the  dying  swan  fulfills  at  eve 
His  passion  on  the  lake  and  music  swells 
With  aching  sweetness  all  his  snow-white  plumes, 
And  he,  that  never,  never  shall  return, 
Like  music  burning  floats  into  the  sun; 
Or  when  upon  a  sleek  and  polished  water 
The  moon  all  night  performs  her  dance  serene 
In  solitary  loveliness;  or  if 


72  NIMROD 

Smooth  hands  should  serve  to  beautiful  strange 

guests 

Pale- colored  honey  in  a  golden  dish; 
Or  if  a  water  carrier,  in  the  dusk, 
Should  in  his  earthen  jar  such  water  lift 
As  stars  had  shined  on,  in  the  wilderness, 
And  she  who  drank  it  said  —  it  tasteth  sweet; 
Oh  then,  with  singing  sound  and  moving  shape, 
There  would  be  written  on  our  mortal  air 
An  old  immortal  alphabet  from  which 
Wrapped  in  her  dark  and  sacred  hieroglyph 
An  awful  visitor  with  shape  unseen 
Would  move  with  music  and  would  take  the  breath, 
And  there  would  shine  along  her  ancient  script 
The  solemn  beauty  of  that  elder  speech. 
For  there  is  not  a  tongue  upon  the  earth 
To  tell  how  in  that  city  famed  of  old 
The  stately  ministers  of  lovely  sound 
Had  laid  their  hands  on  music  and  built  up 
A  gracious  architecture  of  sweet  tone; 
Or  how  their  great  and  gorgeous  grammar  raised 
Its  pillars,  arches,  corridors,  and  domes, 
Beneath  whose  roofs  ethereal  thoughts  like  doves 
Melodiously  breathed;  pale  visions  swept 
With  eyes  enraptured;  and  in  music  stoled, 
Before  the  altars,  with  rituals  rich  and  slow, 
Angelic  meanings  served  before  the  Lord. 


NIMROD  73 

And  Nimrod  said  to  Bathsheba,  the  Queen, 
"  Am  I  not  great  ?  When  I  my  voice  cast  forth 
Does  it  not  roar  like  thunder?   Shall  I  lay 
My  hand  upon  the  earth  and  it  not  break 
Like  potter's  clay  dried  up  ?  When  I  go  forth 
Does  not  the  ground  smoke?   Who  has  seen  my 

face 

And,  having  seen  it,  not  covered  up  his  eyes, 
Crying,  'Great  Nimrod'  ?  Are  my  feet  not  set 
Like  cedars  in  the  desert?   Is  not  my  breast 
Unto  my  people  as  a  spring  that  gushes 
Out  of  a  rock?   When  mine  eyes  glance  abroad 
Do  they  not  pluck  up  terror  as  the  eagle 
Bears  up  the  ram  ?  I  lifted  up  my  voice 
And  cried  unto  the  Lord — yes  —  unto  Heaven 
I  shook  my  spear;  yes  —  unto  them  that  boasted 
Upon  the  seats  of  the  angels,  in  high  places 
I   shook   my  strong  spear!    And  the   Lord   was 

vexed 

And  He  sent  down  a  whirlwind  strewn  with  eyes. 
And  it  did  roar  and  spread  itself  and  I 
Did  cast  it  howling  underneath  my  feet. 
The  whirlwind  did  I  cast  beneath  my  feet. 
The  whirlwind  burst  its  belly  under  me  — 
Yes,  God's  strong  whirlwind!   Behold,  am  I  not 

great  ? 
Am  I  not  dreadful  as  the  unicorn? 


74  NIMROD 

Am  I  not  a  palace  hung  with  blazing  shields? 
Am  I  not  Nimrod?" 

And  Bathsheba  spoke, 
And  unto  Nimrod  said,  "Oh,  thou  art  He." 

And  Nimrod  said  to  Bathsheba,  "Why  then! 
The  whirlwind  fell  beneath  me.   I  am  one 
That  with  a  dagger  stabs  the  empty  gale 
And  scourging  air  with  whips  shall  make  it  bleed ! 
Then  was  deep  space  astonished !   For  the  Lord 
Camped  mightily  upon  the  plain.   His  tents 
Were  of  thick  cloud.   His  war  horses  were  there, 
His  chariots  of  dust,  His  fighting  angels; 
And  He  did  lead  on  me  His  cohorts  vast, 
His  fierce  battalions.   He  swept  down  on  me 
His  monstrous  meteors.  And  I  laughed  at  God. 
And  riding  in  thunder  down  the  mountain  side 
Unto  the  lightning  I  did  cry  —  Thou  Fool. 
And  I  raised  up  my  strong  bow  and  I  shot 
Mine  arrow  at  the  Gods.  And  when  it  fell 
I  saw  it  red  with  blood.  For  I  did  slay 
His  strong  white  horse  that  plunged  upon  the  gale. 
His  fierce  horse  did  I  slay  that  spouted  forth 
Pale  smoke  of  vengeance ;  and  the  storm  white 

angel 

That  drove  him  unto  battle,  between  its  wings 
Upon  its  starry  bosom  —  did  I  wound. 


NIMROD  75 

Groaning  in  Heaven  His  great  angel  bleeds. 
Am  I  not  as  a  city  girt  about 
With  forests  of  tall  spears  ?  Am  I  not  spread  ? 
Am  I  not  one  whose  visage  flames  like  brass  ? 
Am  I  not  Nimrod  ?  " 

And  Bathsheba  stirred 

Upon  his  breast  her  pale  and  beauteous  face 
And  unto  Nimrod  answered,  u  Thou  art  He." 

And  Nimrod  spoke  to  Bathsheba  and  said, 
"  Lo,  who  hath  built  this  citadel  ?   Who  reared 
These  furious  bastions  glittering  on  the  plain? 
Who  walled  it  round  about  with  dreadful  brass  ? 
Who  founded  its  deep  fortress  and  decreed, 
Swollen  abroad  with  splendor,  terrific  domes  ? 
Who  planted  it  with  green  and  pleasant  trees  ? 
Was  it  God  did  it  ?   Who  conceived  the  town  ? 
Whose  finger  sleeked  the  brazen  corridors? 
From  whose  imagination  then  did  spring 
These  bright  mailed  armaments   of  towers   that 

sweep 

Their  rugged  radiance  towards  the  sun  ?  Lo,  now 
Did  God  disturb  His  placid  hours  of  ease 
And  wearying  of  His  Heaven  descend  to  build  • 
That  monstrous  chamber  roofed  with  blood-red 

wings  ? 
Did  the  Lord  shape  it  ?  Verily  I  think 


76  NIMROD 

He  was  not  moved  from  off  His  sacred  throne 
To  come  into  the  plain,  and  make  for  us 
A  thatch  amid  the  wilderness,  or  build 
Unto  His  sons  a  comfortable  roof. 
When  was  it  that  He  left  the  triumphing 
And  being  grieved  for  us  in  our  distress 
Harnessed  His  meteor  to  the  groaning  rock 
And  dragged  it  for  us  ?   When,  with  blazing  ax 
Of  His  sharp  lightning  did  He  split  in  twain 
Impregnable  strong  stone  for  us  ?  And  when 
Did  He  make  derricks  of  the  desert  blast, 
Or  of  His  falling  stars  link  mighty  chains  ? 
When  ?   When  ?  Nay  then,  I  think  He  was  not 

stirred 

To  sweat  with  us  when  we  did  heave  the  stone. 
I  have  not  seen  Him  when  the  sun  was  hot 
Upon  the  desert  perish  of  slow  thirst. 
Hath  He  smelted  bronze  in  a  furnace  ?  Hath  He  been 
Scourged   with   the   slaves  ?  For  when  the   sun 
baked  clay 

Upon  the  plain  was  red  with  blood,  I  think 
It  was  the  footprint  of  some  starveling  child 
That  strove  with  a  burden,  but  not  ever  yet 
Because  Jehovah  bled.  Yet  when  He  saw 
My  great  bright  citadel,  the  Lord  was  wroth, 
And  in  the  darkness  spied  upon  my  speech. 
Yes — seized  upon  my  utterance  !   His  ears 


NIMROD  77 

Snatched  up  my  words  as  the  avenging  eagle 
Bears  up  its  prey.  Yes  —  plunged  on  them  through 

space 

And  feeding  on  their  fatness  He  grew  wroth. 
For  a  great  city  shined  upon  my  brain. 
And  I  did  dream  of  vast  and  spheral  halls, 
Broad,  deep,  high-arched,  like  Heaven's  inverted 

dome. 

And  I  would  build  such  towers  as  should  search 
The  countenance  of  the  sun.  And  I  would  storm 
God's  fortress  with  my  great  acropolis, 
And  drive  his  frightened  angels  out,  and  thence, 
To  do  my  bidding  and  to  help  me  build 
Upon  the  earth  a  citadel  more  vast ; 
A  precipice  so  high  that  I  might  leap 
Into  sheer  gulfs  of  Heaven !  Then,  having  plunged 
Through  that  abyss  of  brightness,  I  would  scale 
Its  secret  ramparts,  dare  its  highest  wall, 
Triumph  above  its  batteries,  show  my  face 
With  laughter  on  its  pinnacles,  then  rush 
Into  its  central  silence,  and,  from  the  Book 
Bring  down  to  earth  —  against  His  will  —  God's 

Word. 

Therefore  I  would  inscribe  upon  a  stone, 
4  Great  Nimrod  ! ' 

For  behold,  upon  the  earth 
Am  I  not  mighty  ?  Am  I  not  one  who  dreams 


78  NIMROD 

But  when  he  wakens  seeks  not  any  man 
To  speak  with  cunning  counsel  but  with  deeds 
Interprets  his  own  dream  ?  Am  I  not  one 
Whose  name  is  as  a  silver  shawm  blown  loud? 
Am  I  not  Nimrod?" 

And  Bathsheba  raised, 
Shining  as  does  the  terrible  chrysoprase, 
Her  pale  and  awful  beauty  from  his  breast 
And  unto  Nimrod  said,  "Lord,  thou  art  He." 

Then  Nimrod  in  his  rage  did  spread  abroad 
And  in  his  violent  robes  gathered  such  wrath 
As  hidden  in  dark  clouds  shall  shake  the  sky. 
The  thick  locks  on  his  head  in  anger  reared 
And  bristled  as  with  sparks.   His  challenging  eyes 
Swept  the  dark  air  with  such  velocities 
As  when  with  onslaught  fierce  a  thundering  drove 
Of  neighing  steeds  stampede  the  plain.   His  brow 
Was   black  with   deep    and   swollen    veins.   His 

hands 

Were  stretched  aloft  as  if  to  snatch  from  Heaven 
God's  thunderbolts.  So  Nimrod  speechless  stood, 
With  such  a  silence  as  should  scourge  the  air 
More  fearfully  than  does  the  hurricane. 
So  Nimrod  stood ;  and  Bathsheba,  the  Queen, 
Gazing  upon  his  presence  was  appalled ; 
And  casting  down  her  beauty  at  his  feet 


NIMROD  79 

Spread  out  the  yellow  harvest  of  her  hair 

Upon  the  stone.    Not  like  a  woman  now, 

But  having  seen  an  omen  in  mid  air, 

A  portent  and  a  devastating  doom, 

A  part  of  groaning  nature  she  fell  down, 

Her  broad  and  simple  flanks  like  the  white  herds 

Submissive  on  the  plain,  her  bones  like  rock, 

The  sinew  of  the  earth  —  like  earth  she  lay, 

The  dark,  the  elemental,  the  chastised  — 

And  waited  for  his  wrath.  And  Nimrod  spoke. 

"  Break,  break,  ye  clouds,  and  cast  upon  the  earth 
Your  progeny  of  fierce,  angelic  lights. 
Rage,  rage,  ye  stars  that  never  more  should  creep 
Like  hounds  about  God's  footstool.   Heave,  thou 

earth, 

And  cast  thy  broth  at  Heaven.  Ye  mighty  hills, 
Tremble  I  say,  for  sickness  of  His  feet. 
Howl,   thou  meek   air !   Thou    earth,    sky,  sun, 

moon,  wind, 

Ye  forests,  clouds  !   Oh  all  ye  visible  things, 
Be  purged  of  God.  For  I,  that  am  a  man, 
Having  observed  the  ways  of  the  Most  High, 
Am  utterly  astonished.   God  was  wroth. 
He  was  afraid  because  I  sought  to  build 
A  citadel  so  huge  it  should  confound 
His  High  Archangels.  So  he  drew  a  cloud 


8o  NIMROD 

Of  angry  darkness  round  about  his  throne 

And  restless  amid  rest  he  cast  about, 

Eternal,  jealous,  how  he  should  subdue 

Our  mortal  glory.  Then  the  Lord  came  down, 

Invisible,  in  radiance  panoplied. 

And  when  I  saw  His  front,  I  was  amazed. 

Then  was  He  pleased.  Then  was  His  mind  set  up. 

Then  did  His  countenance  boast  and  in  His  heart 

Unto  His  watching  hosts  He  cried  —  Ha !   Ha  ! 

For  He  is  one  that  having  not  ever  sown 

Shall  reap  the  harvest.  And  He  was  consumed, 

When  He  beheld  great  Babel,  as  with  fire 

Is  the  dry  flax.    Then  did  He  smoke  with  rage, 

And  in  His  dark  and  monstrous  heart  decreed 

That  those  who  sweat,  who  bled,  who  died,  should 

cry 
To  Him,  enthroned  in  the  eternal  ease, 

*  Behold,  God  did  it ! '  And  He  said  to  me, 

*  Lo,  now  thou  art  confounded  and  cast  down. 
Go  thou  into  the  chamber  and  on  the  stone 
Write  thou  Jehovah's  name.' "  .  .  .  . 

Then  Bathsheba 

Arose  before  him  and  upon  him  shone 
Her  pale  and  awful  beauty.   Her  large  eyes 
Cast  darkness  forth  upon  the  air  and  filled  it 
With  premonition  of  a  doom  august. 
And  she  spoke  to  him  as  the  Sovereign  Night 


NIMROD  8 1 

Utters  forth  stars  that  shape  the  destinies 
Of  other  worlds. 

u  Lo,  who  shall  war  with  God  ? 
Hast  thou  such  spears  as  those  that  from  the  sky 
Cleave  earth  straight  through  ?  Hast  thou  a  war 

horse  shod 
With   flame  ?   Whose  mane  is  thunder  ?    Canst 

thou  shake 

The  stars  with  murmuring  ?   Or  by  thy  nod 
Confound  great  waters  ?   Canst  thou  do  this  ?   My 

Lord, 

Thou  art  vainglorious.  Think  upon  the  flood. 
Remember  Adam.  For  upon  my  dreams 
Such  awful  portents  ride  as  meteors 
Astride  the  blast.    I  see  !  — I  see  !  —  I  see  !  — 
And  there  is  doom  upon  the  land  and  wailing, 
And  direful  confusion !   Make  peace  with  God. 
Else  where  this  citadel  is  reared  to-day, 
To-morrow  wolves  shall  haunt  and  hooting  owls 
Shall  lodge  them  in  the  ruin.  Then  thou,  cast  out, 
Shalt  stretch  thy  hands  into  a  windy  air 
And  cry  '  Lord,  Lord  ! J  upon  an  empty  plain. 
Go  thou,  and  on  the  brightly  polished  stone 
Write  thy  Lord's  name."  .  .  . 

Then  Nimrod  went  from  her. 
He  passed  beyond  the  brazen  door  and  stood 


82  NIMROD 

Upon  a  massive  landing  flanked  with  stone, 
Bright  paved  with  various-colored  stone  and  arched 
With   moon- white   marble,  hushed  with  many  a 

shape 

Of  pale  and  dancing  creatures  carved  in  light ; 
Blossoms  and  garlands  ;  wild  and  starry  forms 
That  ran  soft-footed  through  the  tender  stone; 
Deep  fruitage,  shadowy  grapes,  apples  of  snow, 
White  shining  pears,  pomegranates  richly  pale ; 
Dim  hands  and  silver  flagons  —  and  anon, 
Blushing  with  sweetness,  all  the  soft  white  stone 
Smiled  like  a  rose,  where  vaguely  seen  as  though 
From  some  profound  and  spiritual  air 
Their  fair  immortal  shapes  had  melted  through, 
With  laughing  eyes,  with  soft  and  cloudy  hair, 
Angelic  faces  smiled  and  dimly  shone. 
The  portal  was  blood  red  and  it  was  carved 
With  haloes  of  fierce  angels,  burnished  bright 
With  glowing  ribs  of  deeply  crudded  wings. 
And  on  the  left  a  brazen  cherub  stood 
With  locks  outspread.   His  pinions  were  blood  red. 
His  breast  was  alabaster  and  his  eyes 
Of  topaz,  flaming  fearfully.    In  his  hand 
He  poised  a  jewelled  spear  before  the  Lord. 
And  on  the  right  a  brazen  cherub  stood 
With  locks  outspread.  His  pinions  were  blood  red. 
His  breast  was  alabaster  and  his  eyes 


NIMROD  83 

Of  topaz,  flaming  fearfully.    In  his  hand 

He  poised  a  jewelled  spear  before  the  Lord. 

'Twixt  massive  balustrades  of  thick  carved  gold 

Downward  there  swept  a  huge  Olympian  stair 

Of  grave,  celestial  whiteness  like  the  moon. 

It  swelled  abroad,  calm,  beautiful,  and  bland. 

Descending  into  beauty  yet  more  vast, 

It  moved  as  some  white-bosomed  awful  god 

Slowly  matures  his  shape  upon  the  air. 

So  with  large  curves  it  did  embody  space. 

With  godlike  love  embracing  emptiness, 

In  austere  nuptials  it  sank  down  in  bliss. 

For  lo,  there  swelled  upon  the  mortal  sight 

A  vast,  a  spheral  chamber,  as  did  seem 

The  breeding  place  of  immortality. 

Young  angels  here  might  lay  a  soothing  hand 

On  space  made  infinite  and  grieved  time 

Become  eternal.   Here  such  calm  was  spread 

As  doth  inhabit  greatness.  The  rich  air 

Conceived  such  splendors  as  appeared  to  sweep 

Like  divine  blazing  eagles  the  huge  roof. 

From  column  unto  column  space  swept  on, 

Breathing,  enraptured,  god-like  and  austere  — 

Music  made  visible.  And  Nimrod  gazed. 

And  when  he  saw,  globed  forth  beneath  that  dome, 

All  human  beauty  sphered  before  his  eyes, 

Even  like  mortality  shrined  in  one  tear ; 


84  NIMROD 

When  he  bethought  him  how  upon  a  night 

He  with  imagination  was  consumed ; 

Yes,  even  he  that  haunted  with  the  wolves 

Among  the  rocks,  naked  upon  the  plain, 

Was  seized  with  such  great  awfulness  of  dream 

As  blows  mortality  from  off  our  souls 

And  leaves  them  to  a  high  and  god-like  doom; 

And  how  —  even  upon  him,  the  warrior  chief — 

There  swept  upon  his  spirit,  burning,  bright, 

The  knowledge  of  that  chamber  —  beautiful; 

Then  he  stretched  out  his  arms  upon  the  air 

And  stood  as  one  astonished.  For  behold, 

Spread  like  a  glassy  sea  the  radiant  floor 

Was  smoothed  in  golden  pools  of  deep  delight. 

The  blazing  walls  of  fierce  and  polished  brass 

Were  bright  as  bosoms  of  the  cherubim, 

And  angel-shaped  strong  columns  lifted  up 

A  solemn  dome  of  arched  and  blood-red  wings. 

Then  Nimrod  moved  along  the  placid  floor 

Till,  in  the  center  of  its  vastness,  set 

Upon  a  pedestal  of  blackened  bronze, 

He  came  upon  a  huge  and  polished  stone 

Like  the  shield  of  a  great  angel.   On  each  side 

Two  dreadful  cherubim  in  brass  did  flame 

And  their  bright  swords  were  crossed  above  to  bid 

The  Powers  of  Heaven  hide  before  a  name 

Soon  to  be  graved  forever  upon  stone. 


NIMROD  85 

And  Nimrod  looked  about  him  and  he  saw 
The  dim  and  dove-like  smoke  of  incense,  rising, 
Float  palely  in  the  air  before  the  shrine. 
And  he  beheld  the  fiery  spread  wings 
Of  those  four  blazing  cherubim,  and  read 
Upon  the  pedestal  of  bronze,  strange  script, 
That  being  translated  cried,  "  Angels,  Archangels, 
Ye  generations  of  men  ;  hereon  is  writ 
The  name  of  him  who  built  great  Babel.  Lo  — 
He  is  our  stronghold.   In  the  wilderness 
Our  sweet  well  water  gushing  from  a  stone, 
Our  sword,  our  buckler,  and  our  blazing  shield, 
Our  rose  in  a  fair  garden."  .  .  . 

And  behold, 

That  radiant  chamber  rushed  upon  his  soul 
Like  a  great  host  of  angels  and  he  spread 
His  gaze  about  him.  And  when  Nimrod  saw 
How  empty  was  the  broad  and  blazing  space, 
And  how  no  eye  disturbed  the  air,  he  turned  — 
And  on  the  polished  stone  wrote  his  own  name. 

PART    IV 

Then  did  the  powers  of  the  air  breed  forth 
Sight  in  no  mortal  shape  involved  that  flew 
Furious  as  eagles  blazing  in  mid  noon  — 
And  snatching  Heavenward  that  naked  deed 


86  NIMROD 

Swept  up  its  prey,  screaming,  into  the  sun. 

Then  was  there  heard  upon  steep  slopes  of  air, 

Like  fearful  rushings  of  invisible  steeds, 

The  trampling  of  innumerable  eyes, 

That  mounted  up  to  God,  angry,  amazed, 

Terrific,  smoking,  furious  and  appalled, 

By  earth  affrighted.   But  when  around  the  Throne 

Vast  multitudes  of  angels  robed  in  wrath, 

Displeased  and  splendid,  gazed  into  God's  face, 

The  Lord  looked  down  upon  great  Nimrod's  deed 

And  seated  in  large  silence,  pitied  him. 

Then  from  His  breast  a  blazing  angel  came 

And  looking  down  upon  the  earth  he  cried, 

"  Oh  blind,  oh  fatuous,  knowing  not  thyself! 

For  I  that  am  in  God  am  thine  own  soul, 

Thine  own  deep  Self —  unutterably  real. 

But  thou  wouldst  build  thy  towers  and  threaten  us 

And  snatch  from  out  the  Book  His  secret  Word. 

Yet  —  at  thy  voice  —  I  will  come  down  to  earth, 

And  I  will  sphere  before  thy  mortal  sight 

His  midmost  Truth,  God's  utterance  crystal  clear, 

Shape  of  angelic  substance  that  contains 

The  stars  of  destinies,  astrologies, 

Prophecies,  histories,  retributions,  spells, 

Births,  crucifixions,  resurrections,  dooms, 

And  God's  own  heart  that  ever  burns  therein, 

Made  visible.   Lo  then,  thine  eyes  shall  see ! 


NIMROD  87 

And  thou  shalt  know  how  through  thy  walls  are 

stretched 

High  Heaven's  bastions  ;  how  angels'  mighty  feet 
Tread  deep  thy  strong  foundations  and  their  great 

arms 

Uplift  thy  arches  ;  how  their  heavenly  breath 
Bears  up  thy  highest  turrets,  and  how  thy  domes 
Are  symbols  of  their  passing.   Gazing  on  me, 
Made  wise  with  Truth,  thou  shalt  grow  glorious. 
And  I  will  shine  through  thee  as  does  the  flame 
In  sacred  vessels  —  burning  before  the  Lord. 
A  Prophet  and  a  Saviour  thou  shalt  be. 
And  thy  great  citadel  shall  open  lie 
To  bright  celestial  guests  and  thou  shalt  walk 
Among  our  sacred  and  dark  groves ;  but  if 
I  do  not  please  thee,  smite  me  with  thy  sword, 
And  I  will  leave  thee  and  to  Heaven  return." 

Then,  from  His  inmost  bosom,  God  sent  down 
That  angel  unto  Nimrod.  And  the  King, 
In  Babel,  made  to  Bathsheba  a  feast. 
For  he  had  marshalled  hosts  of  armored  men 
In  that  great  hall ;  and  when  Bathsheba  moved 
In  silent  radiance  down  the  snow-white  stair 
There  swept  among  them  a  vast  murmuring 
And  a  low  roaring  as  of  ardent  flame. 
Behold,  she  walked  among  them,  and  her  feet 


88  NIMROD 

Were  bound  in  golden  sandals.    The  robe  she  wore 
Was  scarlet ;  and  her  face  was  pale.   She  came. 
Then  those  that  gazed  upon  her,  being  abashed, 
Could  lift  their  eyes  no  longer.    But  she  moved 
As  does  the  sunset  on  an  empty  plain. 
Beautiful  and  alone  she  walked  unseen. 
Only  great  Nimrod's  eyes  were  not  made  blind, 
But  he  observed  the  pageant  of  her  face. 
His  shaggy  warriors,  bright  as  burning  trees, 
Blazed  like  deep  forests  all  on  fire,  and  lit 
With  smouldering  helmet  and  with  flaming  shield 
The  air  with  conflagration ;  but  their  eyes 
Fell  down  like  flaming  leaves,  while  over  them 
In  the  broad  sky  two  eagles  soared  and  met 
And,  mated  in  mid  air,  fledged  on  the  gale 
Great  golden  birds  of  love.  So  swiftly  paired 
The  eyes  of  mighty  Nimrod  and  the  Queen. 
Unwatched,  unseen,  amid  vast  multitudes, 
She  melted  in  his  arms  and  on  his  breast 
Laid  down  the  awful  splendor  of  her  face. 

And  Nimrod  saw  the  Angel,  and  his  brow 
Was  pale,  translucent ;  and  a  garb  of  light 
Concealed  the  burning  softness  of  his  shape; 
And  he  was  mild  and  glorious  and  his  eyes 
In  deep  obedience  smiled  and  as  he  shone, 
Immortal  doves  were  bred  out  of  his  sight  — 


NIMROD  89 

And  flew  among  the  thousand  columns  of  gold. 
Like  some  strong  diver  he  plunged  down  through 

light, 

Through  gulfs  of  quiet  and  eternal  seas 
Of  such  delight  his  bosom  swelled  with  bliss, 
And  his  large  pantings  shook  the  silvered  deep. 
With  heaving  sides  he  swam  beneath  the  flood 
And  drenched  with  beauty  floated  into  sight. 
So  Nimrod  gazed  upon  him  and  he  saw 
Such  rich  benevolence  as  warmed  the  air 
Like  a  celestial  orchard  deep  with  fruit 
Of  milky  substance,  bounteous  and  mild. 
And  the  translucent  brightness  of  his  iimbs 
Was  all  inscribed  with  prophecies  and  dooms, 
With  retributions,  ecstasies  and  dreams. 
How  starry  was  his  substance,  and  his  shape 
How  chastened  unto  beauty!   How  austere! 
For  he  was  lovelier  than  the  Milky  Way; 
More  ancient  than  the  moon;  more  white  than 

stars ; 

And  glories,  dying  from  some  fairer  clime, 
Did  palely  swim  along  his  silent  smile 
Like  great  white  singing  swans.  And  Nimrod  knew 
His  own  deep  self,  unutterably  real. 
And  in  his  hand  he  held  an  awful  sphere, 
A  monstrous  globule  shaped  like  the  full  moon, 
A  dreadful  brightness,  stranger  than  a  star. 


9o  NIMROD 

Eternal,  beautiful,  orbed  in  golden  light, 

A  vessel  of  pure  fire  it  flamed  serene, 

More  fearful  than  clear  water  when  'tis  still. 

Eternal  beauty  solved  into  one  tear  — 

It  laid  a  shape  upon  unshapen  air, 

And,  as  the  radiant  moon  reveals  the  sun, 

Held  up  to  mortal  vision  the  unseen. 

And  Nimrod  saw  it  and  he  cried  aloud. 

And  from  his  limbs,  as  out  of  gnarled  trees, 

Slow  heavy  drops  exuded;  and  his  sweat 

Dropped  from  him  like  thick  amber  and  he  fixed 

Upon  that  spirit  astonished,  staring  eyes  — 

And  cried  unto  the  angel,  "  It  is  the  Word." 

For  lo,  made  visible  to  mortal  sight, 

Strange  mingled  colors  swam  upon  its  shape. 

Like  skies  at  noon  its  pure  angelic  substance 

Contained  all  stars  and  they  engendered  forth 

Prophecies,  histories,  high  astrologies, 

Falls,  crucifixions,  resurrections,  dooms, 

Portents  and  charms;  bright  times,  like  ripened 

fruit, 

Fell  from  its  surface;  seas  and  shifting  lands 
Were  hurried  from  its  face;  vast  nations  rushed 
And  circling  round  it  in  mad  hurricanes 
Chastened  its  limpid  stillness.  Then,  all  gone, 
Closed  in  its  central  sweetness,  sphered  in  calm, 
Blushed  the  perpetual  smile  of  God. 


NIMROD  91 

Then  spoke 

That  Angel  unto  Nimrod  and  he  said, 
"  See  in  my  hand  God's  awful  Hieroglyph. 
This  is  His  secret  Utterance,  the  Word 
Which  thou  dost  seek,  in  prayers  that  thou  hast 

shaped 

And  raised  to  Heaven  in  thy  domes  august, 
Thy  soaring  towers  and  thy  spires  that  dream. 
Take  it  from  me.   I  am  thy  Spirit's  Truth, 
And  we  are  one  another,  and  from  thee 
Shall  future  times  beget  me.  Thou  shalt  grow 
Mild,  ancient,  and  at  ease,  eternal,  wise. 
A  prophet  and  a  saviour — thou  shalt  be. 
And  thy  great  citadels  shall  open  lie 
To  bright  celestial  guests  and  thou  shalt  walk 
At  will  among  our  sacred  and  dark  groves  — 
And  thou  and  all  thy  sons  shall  be  as  kings. 
Stretch  out  thy  hand.  Lay  hold  upon  God's  Word." 
And  Nimrod  gazed  upon  that  Utterance. 
And  from  it  streamed  such  splendor  as  lit  up 
Bathsheba's  face,  inclined  on  Nimrod's  breast. 
And  they  perceived  the  galleries  of  the  hall 
Uplifted  on  the  shoulders  of  archangels 
And  how  amid  the  thick  and  blackened  bronze 
Was  spread   their  hair  and  how  their  powerful 

shoulders 
Supported  Nimrod's  bulwarks  and  their  breath 


92  NIMROD 

Blew  forth  round  domes  like  bubbles  and  their  eyes 
Bred  out  of  earth  his  battlements,  as  the  sun 
Bids  forests  into  growth ;  and  they  beheld 
Strong  Gravitations  that  with  gigantic  knees 
Forced  down  his  bastions  while  ethereal  hands 
Lifted  his  pinnacles ;  and  they  perceived 
That  through  the  ramparts  of  that  mighty  town 
Were  stretched  sweet  angels'  wings  and  how  mild 

eyes 

Gazed  at  them  from  the  stones  and  the  great  arches 
Were  lifted  on  the  backs  of  angels,  bent 
To  lift  that  joyous  burden ;  and  bright  feet 
Were  spread  amid  the  rock  and  rushing  raiment 
Of  splendid  spirits  roared  along  the  stone 
For  Nimrod  when  he  built.  And  they  perceived 
How  Cherubim  had  beckoned,  and  behold, 
The  city  had  grown  upward ;  winged  steeds 
Were  chained  to  drag  the  stones  and  forms  unseen 
Had  built  among  the  laborers  on  the  plain. 
And  she  remembered  what  God  said  to  Nimrod, 
And  looking  on  the  polished  stone  that  stood 
Between  great  brazen  angels,  she  saw  it  hid 
In  purple  cloth.  Then  Bathsheba  drew  down 
Great  Nimrod's  face  unto  her  own  and  said, 
"  Son  of  Almighty  God  —  what  hast  thou  done  ? 
Tell  me,  great  Nimrod,  hast  thou  kept  His  word? 
For  I  remember  how  I  bade  thee  go 


NIMROD  93 

And  write  upon  the  stone,  even  as  He  said. 
And  if  thou  didst  not  do  it  —  never  more 
Can  I  in  solace  lean  upon  thy  breast. 
No  more  can  I  learn  from  thine  eyes,  or  say 
Unto  my  soul,  '  This  man  shall  lead  thee  forth 
And  marshal  thee  to  God '  —  But  I  in  grief 
Would  cloud  my  presence  even  to  thy  face. 
Tell  me,  what  didst  thou  write  upon  the  stone  ? 
Oh  —  ere  I  come  to  thee  again  —  I  say 
Was  it  God's  name  ?  " 

And  Nimrod  turned  and  saw 
That  burning  shape,  bright  as  the  breast  of  God, 
Gaze  at  him  from  the  air  and  unto  him 
That  Utterance  spoke.   "  What  has  thy  soul  con 
ceived  ? 

What  thought  has  taken  thee  ?   Oh,  in  thy  heart 
What  strange  imagination  has  sprung  forth  ? 
What  speech  is  this  that  thou  reflectest  on  ? 
If  thou  dost  speak  it,  thou  shalt  be  accursed. 
Tell  her  what  thou  hast  done,  else  with  thy  hand 
Cast  down  the  Word  of  God."  .  .  . 

And  Nimrod  turned. 
And  gazing  on  Bathsheba  he  beheld 
The  pale  and  awful  beauty  of  her  face. 
Then  he  cast  down  God's  Word  before  her  feet, 
And  said,  "  Upon  the  stone  I  wrote  God's  name." 


94  NIMROD 

PART    V 

That  night  the  angels  in  their  citadels, 
The  great  mild-eyed,  whose  snow-white  innocence 
Was  soft  upon  them  and  like  plumage  deep, 
Moved  forth  for  pleasure  and  their  gliding  step 
Peacefully  on  the  radiant  pavement  shone. 
Their  silvery  feet  like  doves  beneath  the  sun 
With  tender  pacing  bred  ethereal  sound 
Which  in  the  melodious  substance  of  the  stone 
Throbbed  with  the  pulse  of  many  an  echoing  tone, 
As  in  the  sunlight  sweetly  sunken  moons. 
Some  walked  in  the  warm  gardens  where  they  ate 
A  placid  fruit,  milk  white,  whereof  the  taste 
Increased  in  them  their  wisdom.   With  delight 
Some  camped  beneath  the  trees  and  in  deep  groves 
Played  secret  lovely  games  that  left  the  air 
More  innocent  with  mirth.  Some  from  the  lips 
Of  Awes  and  Terrors  and  Powers  and  Blazing 

Thrones 
Learned  that  which  passeth  speech.  Some  stretched 

through  space 

Gigantic  limbs  or  plunged  into  the  void 
To  try  their  strength  with  nothingness,  and  some, 
Through  gazing  upon  beauty  having  grown 
Miraculously  quiet,  wrapt  in  calm 
Received  the  silent  ecstasy  of  sleep. 


NIMROD  95 

Some,  wardens  of  the  barricades,  high  up 
Upon  the  ramparts  of  God's  citadel, 
Gazed  from  the  parapets  and  saw  how  smooth 
The  plains  of  pure  and  undisturbed  bright  thought 
In  shining  levels  lay  'twixt  them  and  man. 
But  as  they  gazed  upon  the  eternal  ways, 
Lo,  Heaven  itself  was  shaken.  Then  mid  air 
Was  split  asunder.  Then  was  the  void  struck  deep 
With  blackened  precipices  and  stern  cliffs. 
Then  space  was  made  astonished  and  was  rent. 
Then  dreadful  whirlpools  of  dark,  thundering  time 
Swept  forth  their  reeling  floods.  From  jagged  steeps 
Plunged  shrieking  shapes  of  stars  on  fire.  Then 

thought, 

That  once  had  stretched  a  lucid  interval 
'Twixt  God  and  man,  convulsed  with  darkness, 

broke 

In  fearful  chasms,  gorges  of  despair, 
Fathomless  seas,  sharp-peaked  and  distant  heights, 
Sheer  walls  of  distance,  deep  and  echoing  flumes, 
Untrodden  plains  and  jungles  of  dark  air, 
Where  fierce  monstrosity  and  brutish  rage 
Devoured  each  other.   With  anguished    meteors 

pained, 

Eternal  hurricanes  of  grief  disturbed 
The  deep  arboreal  forests  of  black  night. 
Then  struggling  up  the  dark  abyss  they  saw 


96  NIMROD 

An  urgent  spirit  whose  white  angelic  shape 
Was  poised  for  an  instant  on  the  cliff 
Of  utter  darkness,  like  the  morning  star; 
Then  plunged  again  into  the  black  ravine^ 
Then  forth  once  more;  then,  fearfully  obscured, 
Rushed  up  through  trackless  distances,  pursued 
By  howling  furies;  then  followed  the  harsh  trail 
Which  skirted  the  high  citadel;  then  leaped 
Across  the  blazing  bulwarks,  up  the  heights. 
So  swept  among  them,  of  his  splendors  stripped, 
Great    Nimrod's    angel!     Anguished,    bleeding, 

bright, 

Exhausted,  beautiful,  aggrieved,  appalled, 
He  beat  the  air  with  large  astonished  eyes. 
Then,  like  a  steed  gone  frantic,  forward  plunged, 
And  like  one  burning  cast  himself  abroad. 
Pale  with  celestial  anguish  his  body  shone 
Like  the  white  spirit  of  eternal  flame, 
While  wildly  throbbing  on  the  angelic  stone 
Spread  the  crushed  splendor  of  his  beaten  wings. 
Then  once  again  he  reared  himself  and  stood 
Enraged  and  potent  with  a  blazing  front 
And  cried  with  such  a  voice  as  shook  the  air  — 
"  What  has  been  done  on  earth  ?  What  has  been 

thought  ? 
What  dreamed  of?  What  conceived  ?   How  shall 

I  speak, 


NIMROD  97 

That  come  as  witness  to  you  from  that  orb 
Which  is  man's  habitation !   With  what  voice 
Shall  I  cast  knowledge,  howling,  through  these 

streets  ? 

Shall  I  confound  your  presence  ?  With  my  speech 
Shall  I  your  bleeding  brightness  so  afflict, 
Your  bodies  shall  melt  forth  in  tears  ?   Oh  ye ! 
Ye  Spirits,  that  dispersed  upon  the  air 
Feel  Nature  trembling ;  Angels,  that  so  close 
Are  driven  to  one  another  by  the  gales 
Of  earthly  devastation,  ye  surge  like  seas 
Of  troubled  radiance ;  ye  august  Archangels, 
That  lift  complacent,  towering  in  the  sun, 
Your  glacier  beauty  of  precipitous  wings; 
Oh  ye  almighty  Thrones  whose  blazing  eyes 
Breed  forth  astonishments,  dominions,  powers ; 
Ye  principalities  that  in  the  air, 
Fearfully  spread  in  conflagration  bright, 
Consume  the  darkness  of  the  void ;  Ye  Wars 
Beautiful,  shaggy,  bristling,  circumstanced, 
That  ride  with  thunder  and  with  cohorts  vast 
March  forth  with  Dominations  ;  Oh,  all  ye  Times, 
Ye  fearful  Times,  ye  Half  Times  !  on  this  day 
I  say  man  has  accomplished  a  strange  thing, 
And  on  God's  altar  there  smokes  up  to  Heaven 
The  savor  of  unnatural  deeds.  For  when 
At  dawn,  in  Eden,  underneath  the  trees, 


98  N1MROD 

Eve,  slumbering  at  peace  in  Adam's  arms, 
Enraptured,  docile,  in  her  sleep  conceived 
A  dark  monstrosity  —  direful,  new  — 
Man's  disobedience;  when  fatuous  Cain 
Gazing  into  his  brother's  living  eyes, 
With  hate  ecstatic,  first  conceived  of  death ; 
Or  when  before  the  flood  the  sons  of  men 
Whored  fearfully  and  of  adulterous  flesh 
Bred  frightful  progeny ;  I  say  that  then 
There  was  a  speech  in  Heaven  and  it  declared 
Man's  dark  inventions  to  the  stars.  But  now 
What  word  shall  shape  before  you  this  new  thing  ? 
For  never  yet  has  man,  who  fashioneth 
Great  cities  and  great  progenies  of  dust, 
Created  a  new  virtue  ;  but  his  wit 
Conceives  unnatural  monsters  of  misdeed 
And  fierce  original  crime.   I  came  to  him 
Through  skies  of  lovely  thought.   Oh,  like  a  star 
Singing  athwart  the  dawn,  I  swept  the  air 
Of  his  clean  spirit,  morning  fresh.    I  came, 
Beautiful,  wrapped  in  light,  beyond  all  dreaming. 
What  he  had  not  imagined,  I  shone  on  him, 
His  own  deep  Self  unutterably  real. 
And  in  my  raiment  were  his  secret  dawns. 
Pale  was  my  substance  with  the  spiritual  stars 
That  were  the  fires  of  his  ancient  prayers. 
My  body  poised  in  the  air  did  sing 


NIMROD  99 

Like  silvery  strings  with  music,  and  he  gazed, 

And  knew  how  beautiful  I  was  and  saw 

His  own  deep  Self,  unutterably  real, 

But  in  his  heart  preferred  an  alien  thing. 

Oh,  can  ye  in  this  citadel  conceive 

What  Nimrod  plotted  ?   How  shall  I  make  plain 

Without  vast  ruin  blackening  these  halls 

His  spirit's  dark  achievement  !   For  he  wrought 

A  harsh  invention  and  a  blind  machine, 

And  from  his  lips  there  sped  an  iron  word  — 

A  direful  engine  that  did  bring  to  waste 

The  gardens  of  his  being.  Then  on  his  brain 

Seized  black  negation.   With  a  staring  eye, 

His  thought  regarded  emptiness.   He  groaned. 

Then  he  stretched  forth  a  groping  hand  upon 

Annihilation,  and  swart  nothingness 

He  drew  about  him  with  its  ancient  chill. 

I  saw  his  senses  swim,  dizzy  as  clouds 

Dispersed  upon  the  ethers  of  his  soul. 

Then  did  his  mortal  presence  ail.   His  flesh 

Melted  upon  his  bone.   His  eyelids  pale 

Were  cold  and  sweated  heavily.   His  eyes 

Started  and  were  astonished.   In  his  breast 

He  felt  protesting  nature  with  huge  throes 

Endeavor  to  escape  and  leave  him  strewn, 

By  all  the  elements  cast  out.  Aghast, 

His  snow-white  flesh  was  shaken  like  a  city 


ioo  NIMROD 

That  cracks  upon  the  gale  ready  to  fall. 
And  from  his  deep  disease  such  vapor  smoked 
As  if  a  fire  in  the  groins  or  breast 
Were  prophesying  ruin.  Not  like  a  man 
Turned  Nimrod  unto  me,  but  some  wild  shape 
Reared  of  disaster,  built  of  empty  ash. 
So  sorrowed  he  before  me  and  with  tears 
Large  in  his  godlike  eyes,  he  gazed  at  me  — 
His  spirit's  Truth  —  and  groaning  heavily, 
With  devastation  shaking  his  huge  frame, 
He  spoke  forth  monstrous  syllables  and  cried 
What  was  not  true  before  the  Lord ;   then  cast 
The  Word  of  God  upon  the  barren  stone, 
And  from  great  Nimrod's  lips  emerged  pale  death." 
Then  was  the  silence  of  that  listening  host 
Congealed,  as  when  beneath  the  Northern  blast 
Deep  solemn  pools  their  quietness  increase. 
And  stillness  lay  among  their  glittering  spears 
Like  snow  in  a  deep  forest.   But  once  more 
That  Angel  lifted  up  his  voice  and  spoke. 
u  Lo  then,  I  waned  from  out  his  mortal  sight 
And  sank  myself  into  the  golden  air 
That  was  his  spirit  —  wherefrom  I  had  dawned. 
His  own  deep  Self  unutterably  real. 
But  oh,  that  world  of  thought  not  any  more 
Lay  pure,  transparent  like  a  shining  sky, 
Betwixt  his  world  and  ours.  It  had  grown  dark, 


NIMROD  10 1 

And  on  his  soul's  horizon  many  shapes 
Foreboded  tempest.  Then  was  split  in  twain 
His  spiritual  earth.  Dark  gulfs  of  thought 
Swallowed    up    his    peaks  of  radiance.    Hideous 

forests 

Besieged  his  intellect  with  shaggy  growth 
Wherein  roved  many  a  wandering,  livid  beast 
Of  rage  and  hatred.  In  the  evil  air 
Were  floating  idiocies  and  blank  despairs, 
Insanities  and  disembodied  palsies, 
Fright,  and  such  leprosies  as  in  the  waste 
Of  his  soul's  desert  howled  among  the  tombs 
Or  at  the  town's  gate,  smelling  out  the  feast, 
Entered  the  helpless  citadel  of  flesh. 
Through  these  I  rushed  and  from  my  substance 

waned 

The  beauty  of  his  spiritual  stars, 
Until  the  fires  of  his  ancient  prayers 
Seemed  almost  out.  Then  did  I  set  my  face 
Against  the  whirlwinds  of  his  deep  despair, 
His  rage,  his  privy  council,  his  muttering, 
His  peeping  spirits  perched  upon  the  gale. 
I  rode  on  Revolutions  and  I  leaped 
From  mammoth  time  to  mammoth  time.   I  clung 
To  gorgeous  wheels  of  cycles  and  was  whirled 

forth 
From  them  into  mid  air.   I  sat  astride 


{62 


NIMROD 


Event  and  guided  it.  Over  vast  plains 

I  drove  his  chariots  of  change  !   Look  !   Look  ! 

Am  I  not  wounded  ?  Am  I  not  aghast  ? 

For  I  have  ridden  on  his  soul's  eclipse 

Unto  the  uttermost  reaches  of  man's  thought. 

A  thousand  centuries  lie  beneath  my  feet  — 

His  own  deep  Self,  unutterably  real." 

Then  to  the  bulwarks  that  great  angel  leaped 

And  gazing  down  into  the  nether  air 

Lit  up  the  darkness  with  his  blazing  eyes. 

With  arms  outstretched  and  with  exalted  brow, 

He  cried,  "  Lo  now !   Upon  this  town  shall  fall 

An  ending  and  a  devastating  doom  ! 

For  in  its  streets  and  mighty  citadel 

Truth  reigns  no  more.   Wherefore  no  more  shall 

Truth 

Be  its  chief  servant.  Ye  doers  of  foul  deeds  ! 
Manipulators  !  Hiders  !  Plotters  of  schemes  ! 
Runners  on  dark  errands  !  Creepers  on  unshod 

feet! 

Oh  ye  that  dwell  in  Babel,  breeders  of  lies  ! 
Have  ye  not  heard  of  that  unholy  spawn 
That  eateth  its  progenitors  ?   Lo,  now  ! 
Soon  shall  ye  be  devoured.  Never  more 
Shall  God's  high  angels  lift  your  mighty  walls 
In  their  serene  great  hands.  Not  any  more 
Shall  they  upon  their  shoulders  heave  your  domes! 


NIMROD  103 

Ye  are  forsaken  utterly.  Shake  !   Shake ! 
Ye  mighty  citadels  !  Ye  are  not  built 
Upon  a  real  foundation.  Ye  shall  sink 
Amid  soft  brass  and  sickly  dreaming  stone. 
Fall,  ye  high  towers  !   Oh  all  ye  constellations 
Of  domes  resplendent,  like  a  thousand  moons, 
Ye  are  eclipsed  forever.   Ye  bright  walls, 
Whose   rugged   armaments    drive   against    God's 

hosts, 

Mailed  in  magnificence,  ye  shall  be  as  dust. 
Oh  thou  great  Babel  —  out  of  nothing  reared  — 
Shake  !   Crumble  utterly  !   Be  thou  dismayed ! 
For  God  is  wroth  upon  you  and  to  Him 
Thy  citadel  is  as  a  voice  at  night  — 
Thy  brazen  bastions  built  of  empty  wind. 
Thou  art  abolished  fearfully.   His  feet 
Are  darkly  spread  among  you.   Ye  shall  go 
Afflicted  and  confounded.   Ye  shall  rage 
In  scattered  tribes.   God's  strong  and  awful  wars 
He  will  send  down  upon  you.  And  no  man 
Shall  to  his  brother  lift  a  cry  of  peace. 
Words  shall  be  taken  from  you.   On  your  lips 
Your  utterance  shall  be  confused.   Your  breath 
Shall  sicken  in  your  nostrils  and  send  forth 
A  stench  upon  this  land.   With  wailing  voices 
Ye  shall  breed  forth  new  words  and  every  one 
Like  old  death-bearing  Cain  shall  breathe  out  death. 


104  NIMROD 

Your  tribe  henceforth  shall  speak  a  various  tongue, 
And  there  shall  be  a  curse  upon  your  speech." 

Then  from  that  stellar  orb  that  is  the  earth, 
Rose  such  a  lamentation  that  it  vexed 
The  listening  brightness  of  the  zodiac. 
And  many  a  star  fell  from  the  sky  that  night 
With  mortal  grief  afflicted.   Meteor-eyed, 
Eternity  watched  a  new  epoch  dawn 
Upon  that  furious  planet  set  in  time. 
Then  in  high  heaven  all  the  angelic  host, 
Beating  about  God's  ramparts  like  a  tide, 
Swelled  terrible  with  glory,  and  the  eyes 
Of  no  Archangel  could  range  forth  so  far 
As  to  declare  the  end  of  that  vast  sea. 
But  bright  with  billowy  radiance  they  heaved 
Their  rugged  splendor  underneath  the  sun 
And  surged  against  the  battlements.  For,  lo! 
There   shot   among    them    fires   that   were   such 

thoughts 

As  never  more  should  blaze  upon  the  earth, 
Whose  terrible  radiance  was  the  garb  of  speech. 
Breathed  in  by  Heaven,  swept  back  God's  beau 
teous  words 

To  the  eternal  peace  from  which  they  came. 
Burning,  they  plunged  into  the  Angel's  hands. 
They  sunk  their  glowing  shapes  into  his  brain. 


NIMROD  105 

They  shouted  in  his  thighs,  and  in  his  feet 
Raised  paeans  of  delight  until  he  leaped 
Before  the  Lord  with  prophecy  enraged. 
They  foamed  upon  his  brow.  They  swam  serene 
Through  the  translucent  whiteness  of  his  breast. 
Amid  his  spiritual  substance,  fires  shone 
With  moving  splendor  and  interior  flame. 
They  made  soft  music  in  his  throbbing  plumes 
And  on  his  finger  tips  did  sweetly  sing. 
But  never  more  on  earth  those  orbs  of  light 
Choired  truth  along  the  orbits  of  man's  brain. 
And  with  them  rushed  swart  algebras,  disturbed 
From  their  deep  lairs  of  stone ;  and  numbers  swept 
Their  wings  from  earth  until  material  things 
Groaned,  crumbled,  were  no  more.  Swift  accu 
racies, 

Smooth-limbed  and  beautiful  with  flying  feet, 
Fled  from  their  bright  abodes  of  tower  and  wall 
And,  poised  in  high  air,  looked  down  amazed 
To  see  huge  towers  stricken  by  their  flight ; 
Lines,  whirled  about  the  heavenly  ramparts,  swung 
From  ancient  straightness  into  anguished  shapes 
They  had  not  dreamed  of,  arcs,  and  angles  strange, 
And  terrible  spirals.  Many  a  tortured  curve, 
Unwoven  from  arch  and  dome,  was  stretched  in 

pangs 
Of  pained  and  frigid  straightness.   High  in  air 


io6  NIMROD 

Moved  mournful,  calm  and  stern  geometries  — 
Pale  priests   of  space  —  that   from  their  ancient 

hands 

Loosed  the  old  order  and,  at  God's  altars  bowed, 
Laid  down  their  sacrifice  of  beauty.  Then 
A  murmur  rose  among  the  radiant  ones, 
And  they  grew  turbulent  in  Heaven,  for  lo, 
The  angel  had  gone  down.   His  terrible  wings, 
That  with  bright  comets  bristled  as  with  eyes, 
Did  shake  the  atmosphere  like  living  wars. 
Blown  through  his  hair  were  strong  bright  meteors 
Consuming  as  with  flame.   His  thundering  feet 
Ploughed  up  the  earth  till  fearfully  she  rocked 
And  groaned  as  chaos  did  of  old.   His  eyes 
Blazed  like  volcanoes  from  pale  peaks  of  air 
And  prophesied  destruction.   His  screaming  voice 
Perched  like  an  eagle  on  white  cliffs  of  the  sky 
And  snatched  earth's  vision  Heavenward.  His  brow 
Passed  judgment  on  the  universe.   His  robes 
With  conflagration  burned  the  gale.   Oh  then 
There  was  a  cry  in  Heaven,  for  all  the  host 
Of  bright  magnificence,  with  thundering  voice, 
Shouted  abroad  in  Heaven,  "  Great  Babel  Falls." 
Then  that  bright  sea  of  plunging  radiance 
Ebbed  back  to  silence  and  eternal  calm. 


NIMROD  107 


PART  VI 

Three  days,  above  the  plain,  the  setting  sun 
Moved  over  Babel ;  and  its  thousand  courts, 
Ruined  beneath  the  sky,  lay  silently 
Like  pools  of  blood.  Its  devastated  domes 
Shone  forth  no  more  but  blackened  on  the  ground, 
Rent  into  shapes  gigantic.   Its  vast  walls, 
Spread  fearfully,  lay  swart  upon  the  sand, 
Cleft  in  deep  chasms,  gorges  of  dark  bronze, 
Black,  wind-swept  cliff  and  brassy  precipice. 
Its  towers  had  ceased  like  thunder.   Its  temples 

huge, 
Convulsed  in  mammoth  shapes,  crouched  on  the 

plain 

Like  anguished  gods  —  doomed  and  forever  dumb. 
For,  with  its  spirits  gone,  what  tongue  can  tell 
The  speechless  agony  of  aching  bronze, 
The  groanings  and  convulsions  of  strong  stone. 
Bed  rock  was  heaved  from  earth.  From  dungeons 

deep 

Emerged  pale  waters  that,  in  mighty  halls, 
Spread  glassy  lakes  beneath  the  shattered  domes. 
It  seemed  eternal  ruin.  No  voice  broke 
That  death-like  stillness  and  not  any  man 
Looked  forth  to  query  where  his  home  had  been. 


io8  N1MROD 

But  the  gaunt  wolf  skulked  slant-eyed  from  the 

plain, 

And  when  the  sun  was  set  the  jackal  whined 
Down  empty  echoing  corridors  of  stone. 
Under  the  roofless  pillars  the  night  owl 
Flew  among  ruined  arches  and  the  wind 
Sighed     through    disconsolate     forests    of   black 

bronze. 

But  when  upon  the  third  night  the  full  moon 
Shone  on  the  plain,  a  dark  and  awful  shape 
Loomed  forth  upon  the  rock  and  spread  abroad 
Its  shadow  in  the  waste.  For  a  long  time 
It  crouched,  squat  in  the  sand,  nor  moved  at  all, 
But  its  huge  bulk  was  like  a  bowlder  cast 
In  the  eternal  idiocy  of  stone. 
At  length  that  sombre  entity  did  move, 
And  with  colossal  labor  without  sound 
Heaved  up  its  groaning  ruins ;  and  the  moon 
Revealed  the  shaken  semblance  of  a  man. 
With  vague  spread  feet,  gnarled  knees  and  shaggy 

sides, 

With  bulging  eyes  and  large,  astonished  face, 
With  matted  locks  of  horror-whitened  hair, 
Gigantic  in  the  waste  he  towered  alone, 
That  once  in  Babel  was  a  mighty  King. 
He  stared  abroad,  as  if  a  diver,  lost 
Beneath  deep  waters,  gazed  on  a  sunken  town. 


NIMROD  109 

Then  with  a  vacuous  eye  he  seemed  to  search 
As  for  a  thing  forgotten  —  that  being  found 
He  would  remember  it.   And  he  moved  on, 
Desolate  in  the  silence  —  and  he  saw 
Unearthly  crawling  monsters  of  slow  stone, 
And  buried  in  a  sea  of  livid  light 
Black  on  the  sand,  unutterable  shapes. 
Through  ruined  vaults  and  roofless  corridors 
He    moved    with    stealthy   step.     Sometimes    he 

came 

To  empty  chambers  open  to  the  sky 
Whose  lone  inhabitant  was  the  windy  owl 
Wheeling  his  ghostly  shadow  to  and  fro 
With  melancholy  hooting.   Much  amazed 
At  these  unearthly  ruins  he  moved  on, 
Turning  his  steps  along  a  corridor 
That  promised  him  the  end  he  sought  and  seemed 
As  when  along  an  insane  countenance 
A  look  of  recognition  strangely  creeps. 
But  at  the  end  it  led  him  to  a  place 
Made  imbecile  with  ruin  —  where  not  one  thing 
Preserved  its  ancient  contour.   Sometimes  he  beat 
Against  a  barricade  of  rock  or  rushed 
Like  one  gone  frantic  to  some  parapet 
Or  from  a  ruined  casement  stared  far  ofF 
Upon  a  sea  of  moonlit  waste.  At  last, 
Not  knowing  where  he  went,  he  turned  his  steps 


no  NIMROD 

Among  the  ruins  of  that  mighty  hall 
Where  once  great  Babel  held  her  festival, 
And  his  bright  warriors,  shaggy  as  burning  trees, 
Blazed  forth  like  conflagration.    Nimrod  strode 
Under  the  sky  and  on  that  ruin  gazed. 
For  lo  —  those  walls,  graven  with  mighty  shapes 
Beautiful,  old,  occult,  were  spread  abroad 
In  gorgeous  devastation.  And  he  gazed 
On  awful  effigies  of  sculptured  bronze. 
Cast  from  their  habitations  they  appeared 
With  frigid  gestures  to  forbid  or  warn. 
Carved  out  of  purple  marble,  slit-eyed,  straight- 
lipped, 

With  gold  set  in  their  nostrils  and  their  mouths, 
With  hands  upon  their  knees,  about  to  speak, 
Yet  dumb  forever,  stared  swart  images. 
Hewn  out  'of  uncouth  rock,  old  sacred  beasts, 
Elephants,  lions,  monsters  terrible, 
Dragons  and  birds  that  flew  before  the  flood 
With  scaly  wings  of  brass,  grotesquely  shaped, 
Stared  at  him  from  those  devastated  walls, 
Shaken  with  thunder  each  one  from  his  niche 
Of  lawful  meaning.  As  if  the  shining  beasts 
That  rage  with  love  and  splendor  about   God's 

throne, 

Beneath  His  hand  unutterably  good, 
Being  cast  to  earth  returned  to  natural  wrath 


NIMROD  in 

And   whined    or  whinnied,  bellowed,  roared    or 

screamed, 

Each  after  his  own  kind,  desiring  flesh ; 
So  these  immortal  symbols,  fallen  from  grace, 
Unspiritual,  brutish,  uttered  death. 
Monsters  of  twisted  bronze,  griffin  or  sphinx, 
Strange  mythologic  beasts  no  eye  had  seen, 
Beneath  the  moon,  in  effigies  of  hate, 
That  once  in  ordered  harmony  had  choired 
With  golden  mouths  a  psalmody  of  love, 
Stared  at  him  as  he  moved  and  with  mad  lips 
Cried  dissolute  meanings  that  were  not  the  truth. 
Then  his  flesh  cowered  before  old  hieroglyphs 
Of  chronicles  forgotten  — gods  asleep  — 
That  muttered  forth  sad  dreams  and  vaguely  spoke 
Into  his  soul,  dark,  unimagined  crime 
And  uncreated  horror.  Letters  strange 
Leered  at  him  wildly  and  with  insane  eyes 
Told  tales  abominable  of  an  earth 
They  saw  not  well.   But  some  were  chastely  made, 
More  lovely  than  the  white  and  ancient  moon ; 
But  like  the  moon  they  ever  turned  away 
An  occult  fire  from  the  eyes  of  man. 
Others  of  more  intelligible  shape 
Seemed  beautiful  to  him  —  but  oh,  how  dumb, 
Like  mouths  of  speechless  angels  —  lost  syllables, 
That  had  no  meaning  for  him,  yet  did  seem 


ii2  NIMROD 

To  have  that  in  them  which  should  ease  his  grief 
If  his  soul's  eyes  could  read  their  outlawed  script. 
Adamic  spellings,  palely  glimmering  runes, 
And  broken  shapes  of  ancient  alphabets  ! 
He  seemed  like  one  who  argued  with  the  speech 
Of  furious  madmen  —  for  upon  the  night 
They  worked  such  images  as  with  fearful  shapes 
Floated  upon  the  air  in  horrors  pale. 
Insanities,  that  in  the  shadowy  wind 
Beat  round  his  face  like  harpies  and  befouled 
His  spirit's  sustenance!   Contagious  fear 
Begot  abomination  where  it  was  not, 
And  having  sickened  all  things,  on  his  soul 
Cast  off  its  trembling  and  diseased  sweat. 
Murder  sat  throned  on  emptiness,  and  hate 
Was  soured  in  the  air's  stomach  till  it  spat 
A  living  venom  around  Nimrod's  feet. 
Wrath  shook  his  marrow.  Floating  idiocies, 
Like  watery  jellies  in  voluptuous  shapes, 
Swam  through  his  brain ;  and  disembodied  lust 
Fearfully  drifted  towards  his  dreamy  flesh. 
Then  panic  seized  him  and  on  his  body  cast 
Disintegration,  till  what  time  should  do 
By  terror  was  accomplished.   Palsy  shook 
The  virtue  from  his  bone.   His  flesh  distilled 
In  unseen  waters.   He  stretched  forth  withering 
arms. 


NIMROD  113 

With  vacuous  eyes,  with  horror-whitened  hair, 

He  might  have  lived  innumerable  years. 

Awful  he  stood,  unutterably  old. 

But  as  he  groped  for  some  remembered  sight, 

His  tranced  eyes  grew  suddenly  awake. 

He  came  upon  a  crumbling  arch,  carved  deep 

With  cunning  skill  and  devious  workmanship. 

Beneath  its  shadowy  arches,  beating  thick, 

Bats  throbbed  athwart  the    darkness  with  shrill 

cries 

Or  in  warm  dusky  garlands  hung  festooned. 
Then  gazing  underneath  that  arch,  he  saw 
A  ruined  marble  stair,  monstrous,  snow  white; 
Upon  the  left,  over  the  sunken  steps, 
A  roaring  torrent ;  shattered  on  the  right 
Huge  fragments  of  a  golden  balustrade, 
Wherefrom  hung  shining  coils  of  mighty  snakes; 
And  at  the  top  a  barred  and  brazen  door. 
Then   Nimrod   groaned.    And  plunging   up  be 
sieged 

With  breast  and  hands  that  portal.  It  was  carved 
With  haloes  of  bright  angels  and  burnished  red 
With  glowing  ribs  of  deeply  crudded  wings. 
And  on  the  left  a  brazen  cherub  stood 
With  wings  outspread.   His  pinions  were  blood 

red, 
His  breast  of  alabaster  and  his  eyes 


n4  NIMROD 

Of  topaz,  flaming  fearfully.   In  his  hand 

He  poised  a  jeweled  spear  before  the  Lord. 

And  on  the  right  a  brazen  cherub  stood 

With  wings  outspread.  His  pinions  were  blood  red, 

His  breast  of  alabaster  and  his  eyes 

Of  topaz,  flaming  fearfully.   In  his  hand 

He  poised  a  jeweled  spear  before  the  Lord. 

Then  Nimrod  with  huge  clamor  beat  the  door, 

With  shouts  and  speech  of  anguish  ;  old  great  cries 

He  had  not  yet  forgotten ;  Adamic  prayers ; 

And  prehistoric  signals  of  the  flesh 

When  it  was  pure  in  Eden ;  tribal  calls 

Of  spirit  unto  spirit;  ambrosial  speech; 

Curses  that  Cain  once  taught  unto  his  sons 

In  his  great  city ;  Paradisal  words 

Ineffable  to  us,  rich  syllables 

That  fed  the  soul,  calm  as  angelic  milk, 

With  deep  and  immemorial  tones  of  love. 

And  lo,  beneath  his  violence  that  door 

Groaned,  yielded,  gave,  and  fell,  and  its   harsh 

sound 

Echoed  through  the  reverberating  halls. 
But  Nimrod,  gazing  from  a  windy  cliff, 
Beheld  the  floating  clouds  and  the  dark  sky. 
Over  a  sunken  ruin  sailed  the  moon. 
Cast  far  below  he  saw  Bathsheba's  towers 
Flung  forth  in  natural  shapes,  fantastic  cliffs, 


NIMROD  115 

Caverns  of  bronze,  or  promontories  steep; 
And  pale  with  ghostly  splendor  in  their  midst 
The  polished  silence  of  a  smoothed  lake, 
Until  that  night  by  no  man  ever  seen, 
Paved  with  such  bitter  whiteness  of  the  moon 
A  brazen  dragon  well  might  dance  thereon. 
Then  Nimrod  turned.  But  now  not  with  huge  cries 
He  broke  the  stillness,  but  his  glassy  eyes 
Rolled  forth  on  nothingness.  Round  his  large  face 
Floated  vague  locks  of  horror-whitened  hair. 
Down  that  great  marble  stair  he  swept  as  if 
A  temple  fell  and  in  the  ruined  hall, 
Gorgeous  in  devastation,  groped  among 
His  monstrous  images.  Then  suddenly, 
Shaken  with  palsy,  with  a  staring  eye, 
He  pointed  down  among  the  shattered  wings 
Of  crumbled  brazen  angels,  and  plucked  forth 
A  slab  of  polished  stone  on  which  was  writ 
A  name  of  might.  This,  seizing  in  both  hands, 
He  raised  high  in  the  air,  and  on  it  shone 
In  letters  bright,  a  disobedient  word  — 
"  Great  Nimrod."  Then  he  cast  it  in  the  dust 
And  raised  to  Heaven  a  primeval  cry. 
And  at  that  cry  dark  shadows  dimly  stirred 
From  obscure  places,  and  as  snuffing  hounds 
Seek  to  the  prey,  vague  human  beings  moved 
Among  the  shaken  ruins  and  appeared 


n6  NIMROD 

From  secret  haunts  where  they  in  anguish  hid. 
Slowly  from  vaults  and  echoing  corridors 
They  dolorously  crept  and  were  aghast 
Seeing  him  white  with  age;  and  still  they  came 
And  huddled  round  him.   But  speechless  through 

the  night 

Loomed  the  great  King.   Repulsed  upon  his  lips 
His  words  did  sit  like  dark-browed  effigies 
In  sculptured  silence  and  he  did  not  speak. 
About  their  sombre  chief  they  studded  the  dark 
As  when  God's  whisper  spake  into  the  sky 
A  thousand  planets.  So  there  appeared  in  sight, 
In  fearful  resurrection,  hosts  of  men. 
And  Nimrod  lifted  up  his  voice  and  spoke. 
And  from  his  lips  his  mighty  arguments 
Did  lock  their  shoulders  like  great  struggling  gods 
In  the  clear  fierce  arena  of  mid  air. 
For  he  alone  of  all  that  lived  in  Babel 
Remembered  the  old  God-like  words  nor  yet 
Had  lost  from  off  his  tongue  that  ancient  speech. 
"  Oh  !   Oh  !   Ye  men  of  Babel  !   Wherefore  then 
Do  ye  stare  round  about  with  dog-like  eyes 
That  beg  the  sop  of  charity  from  me  ? 
There  was  a  man  that  once  on  Shinar's  plain 
Built  such  a  lordly  city  as  not  yet 
Had  Heaven  looked  upon.  ...  I  am  not  He.  .  .  . 
Oh  !   Oh  !  Ye  men  of  Babel !   Get  ye  hence, 


NIMROD  1 1 7 

Out  of  this  ruined  city  to  a  strange  land, 
And  build  new  towns  upon  a  distant  plain. 
They  said  that  Nimrod  was  a  mighty  man. 
His  garments  were  like  thunder.    His  head  shone 
With  fleeces  of  the  sun,  and  his  bright  lips 
Flashed  javelins   of  persuasion.   .   .   .   Where  is 

He?  ... 

Oh !   Oh  !  Ye  men  of  Babel !   I  say  that  God 
Is  terrible  on  earth,  and  if  our  speech 
Shall  make  a  stench  in  Heaven,  we  are  cut  off. 
Obey  the  Lord.  ...  I  would  ye  had  a  king !  .  .  . 
But  if  ye  love  me,  if  ye  have  no  fear 
Of  mine  affliction,  lest  I  bring  a  curse 
Upon  your  tents  and  lest  your  women's  milk 
Be  dried  from  out  their  breasts  because  of  me, 
Then  place  chains  on  my  wrists ;  and  on  my  brow 
Write  '  slave,'  and  drive  me  with  an  iron  scourge, 
Bearing  your  burdens  like  the  patient  beast, 
While  ye  shall  wax  like  cedars  in  green  plains. 
If  ye  would  have  me  with  you,  cry  to  me  ! 
But  if  ye  fear  me,  silently  depart." 
But   they,   with   looks  askance,  heard  Nimrod's 

speech, 

Not  understanding  his  great  ancient  words. 
And,  being  full  of  wrath,  thinking  he  said 
Unnatural,  grievous  things  —  with  angry  eyes 
And  sullen  aspect  they  silently  moved  away. 


n8  NIMROD 

That  night  they  traveled  forth  upon  the  plain, 

Nor  unto  Nimrod  did  his  sons  return. 

But  venerable  Assher  stayed  with  him, 

The  ancient,  the  white-haired,  and  his  true  friend, 

That  once  had  loved  him  for  his  bounteous  youth. 

And  when  he  saw  how  health  had  left  the  King 

And  he  had  grown  unutterably  old, 

The  tears  fell  from  his  eyes  ;  and  Nimrod  said, 

"Lo  now,  thou  art  my  only  and  true  friend." 

But  when  he  heard  that  speech,  old  Assher  thought 

The  King  was  mad  and  answered  unto  him, 

"  How  can  I  serve  thee  ?  "    Then  was  Nimrod's 

mind 

Bewildered  utterly  and  he  conceived 
That  Assher  hated  him  and  with  a  cry 
Of  wrath  and  anguish,  lifted  up  his  sword 
And  smote  him  in  the  breast.  And  Assher  fell, 
And  the  blood  flowed.  And  Nimrod  stared  at  him, 
Fearing  lest  curses  crouched  in  hostile  eyes 
Spring  from  their  lair  and  slay  him  who  had  slain, 
But  Assher,  raising  vaguely  on  his  arm 
And  breathing  heavily,  gazed  up  once  more 
In  Nimrod's  angry  eyes,  and  ere  he  died 
With  a  loud  voice  he  cried  an  unknown  word. 
Then  was  great  Nimrod  shaken  grievously. 
And  from  the  shadows  moved  a  dreary  shape 
And  settled  mournfully  at  Nimrod's  feet, 


NIMROD  119 

Unnoticed.   For  from  Nimrod's  anguished  lips 

Swept  words  like  planets.    Golden  and  full  orbed 

They  rode  the  silence  as  the  throbbing  stars 

Rehearse  the  centuries  or  foretell  new  days 

Or  move  through  Heaven  prophesying  woe. 

"  Spirit  of  truth  !    Oh,  how  shall  I  make  peace 

With  thy  enraged  great  nature  ?   I  am  one 

Who  having  bid  his  tribe  unto  the  feast 

Pollutes  the  bread.   Have  mercy  upon  me. 

For  lamentation  seizes  on  my  flesh 

And  in  my  soul  there  is  a  deep  disease. 

Ye  purities  that  in  the  wind  and  rain 

Shall  dredge  the  air  of  foulness  —  find  out  a  way 

To  cleanse  me!   Never!   Never  shall  I  be  clean. 

Then  cast  me  in  the  purging  fires  of  Hell 

And  in  eternal  flames  let  me  be  burned. 

Let  me  be  damned.   But  oh,  from  out  my  soul 

Let  this  ripe  sickness  somehow  be  consumed. 

For  if  it  were  a  horror  of  the  flesh 

That  had  unseasoned  me — how  quickly  then 

Might  Nature  work  in  me  her  ancient  cure. 

Then  she  might  rend  my  body  off  from  me 

And  cast  its  fevers  in  the  air,  and  turn 

Its  leprosies  into  the  earth,  and  fling 

My  spirit  forth,  a  creature  clean  and  bold. 

But  this  strikes  deeper.  When  I  die,  my  soul 

Shall  howl  outside  the  citadel  of  God, 


izo  NIMROD 

And  with  rent  garments  cry  'Unclean  !  Unclean !  * 

Thou  happy  flesh,  that  when  distressed  too  far 

Melts  off  in  vaporish  airs  and  is  no  more  ! 

Oh,  for  some  power  that  swiftly  should  unlock 

The  atoms  of  my  spirit,  that  they  might  fly 

Asunder  once  for  all,  and  all  my  thoughts 

Be  cast  abroad  under  the  windy  stars, 

Blown  off  in  gulfs  of  nothingness.  Then  no  more, 

Fixed  in  immortal  entity  of  woe, 

Should  I  ejaculate  to  mine  own  grief 

That  syllable  of  god-like  torture  — '  I.' 

What  doom  has  come  on  me  that  I  must  go 

Seeking  mine  own  soul's  death,  yet  find  it  not  ? 

But  still  my  spirit,  breathed  of  God,  must  bear 

Its  ancient  and  intolerable  shape. 

Thou  gaze  of  Truth,  that,  sphering  forth  my  soul, 

Still  keeps  me  focussed  —  for  one  moment  lift 

That  splendor  from  me !  Then  I  '11  plunge  out  in 

dark 

And  be  no  more  a  self  .   .   .   Oh!   Oh!   Oh!  Oh! 
Who   am   I  ?    What  ?   .  .  .  Once  did  I  have   a 

name  ?  — 

Ye  blocks  of  nothingness  that,  hewn  by  me, 
Built  up  in  dungeons  dreadful  and  unseen, 
Immure  my  soul  in  darkness  !   I,  no  more, 
Shall  feel  upon  my  spirit  that  sweet  breath 
Of  ancient  freedom.  I,  no  more,  shall  plunge 


NIMROD  121 

Like  droves  of  horses  up  my  thoughts'  steep  plains 

Nor  in  deep  coverts  hunt  out  mighty  prey 

Of   fearful    knowledge  —  Huntsman  before    the 

Lord. 

Nor  perched  upon  some  mighty  spiritual  cliff 
Shall  I  snatch  down  the  lightning  out  of  Heaven 
To  be  unto  my  sons  a  flaming  sword. 
When  I  was  young  and  in  my  spirit's  health, 
I  dreamed  such  deeds  as  great  archangels  dream, 
Such  that  astonished  cherubs  plumed  in  flame 
Bent  down  to  listen  to  my  murmuring  sleep. 
I  plotted  triumphs  beautiful  and  great, 
With  battle  calls  and  singing  clamor  sweet  ! 
Then,  like  mellifluous  pipes  with  silver  sound, 
By  mine  own  soul  my  flesh  was  blown  upon  ! 
Where  is  my  clarion  ?   On  what  inner  hills 
Blows  my  shrill  trumpet  ?  When  shall  my  host 

return  ? 

And  oh,  ye  sweet  and  many-voiced  pipes, 
To  what  harsh  discord  has  your  music  gone ! 
I  have  so  frightened  nature  that  her  milk 
Has  lost  its  sustenance,  and  when  I  turn 
To  her  rich  bosom  she  yields  unto  my  soul 
A  food  that  palsies  and  a  drink  that  kills. 
Where  shall  I  go?  What  shall  I  do  ?  What  hearth 
Shall  warm  me  now  with  flames  ?   Is  there  a  roof 
To  shield  me  from  the  tempest  ?  No !  No — I  say ! 


122  NIMROD 

For  I  am  not  as  one  that  being  thrust 

Out  of  an  alien  door  goes  forth  alone 

Cursing  his  hostile  tribe,  but  in  the  plains 

Habits  in  some  dark  cave  with  lynx  or  owl, 

Befriended  by  nutritious  earth  !   I  am 

A  wandering  vacuum  by  space  cast  out, 

Abhorred  by  nature  and  by  God  accursed. 

Oh  thou  appalling  universe  !   Thou  hast 

No  darkened  cranny  wherein  I  can  hide 

From  mine  affliction.   What  will  ye  do  to  me  ? 

Ye  crouching,  hostile,  savage  entities 

Of  earth,  air,  water,  wood,  flesh,  spirit,  stone  ! 

There's  not  one  grain  of  sand  upon  the  plain 

But  from  its  breast  such  furies  are  unleashed 

As  hound  my  spirit  forth  —  it  knows  not  where. 

Oh,  while  I  live  on  earth,  each  thing  that  is 

Shall  scourge  my  soul  with  its  identity, 

Accusing,  awful,  unutterably  real. 

Ye  fierce  existing  things,  how  shall  I  make 

Peace  with  you  ever !   Brand  upon  my  lips, 

Thou  Spirit  of  Truth,  some   burning   word,  so 

deep 

Pain  cannot  shake  it  thence.  Then  I  will  go 
Shouting  it  forth.   But  let  my  people  turn 
On  me  in  wrath  and  scourge  me  for  my  speech ! 
Yes,  stone  me  to  the  dust !   Yes  —  strip  from  me 
My  clamorous  flesh  and  send  mine  outraged  ghost 


NIMROD  123 

Breathing  forth  vengeance  and  a  shout  of  truth! 

So  might  ye  be  appeased,  ye  things  that  bear 

A  shape  upon  you  and  mine  own  soul  might  feel 

A  solace  to  its  grief.   It  cannot  be  ! 

But  when  I  die  and  leave  this  earth  I  '11  go 

An  ancient  wanderer  through  the  universe, 

Hounded  by  meteors,  cast  off  by  the  stars, 

Plunged  into  chaos.   Oh  ye  musics  huge 

That  deepen  into  splendors  with  rich  suns 

Or  wane  with  dying  moons  —  never  by  you 

Shall  I  be  comforted  but  yet  more  damned 

Because  ye  are  so  real.   For  I  am  one 

With  such  deep  contradiction  in  my  soul 

That  when  God  to  the  void  cried  — '  Let  there 

be'  — 

I,  unto  groaning  chaos,  shouted,  '  No.' 
Ye  giant  harmonies  that  in  deep  space 
Build  up  proud  architectures  —  not  with  you, 
Shall  I  in  sounding  chambers  of  delight 
Seek  shelter  from  the  intolerable  waste. 
Not  in  your  shining  palace  may  I  dwell, 
Who  raised  myself  amid  the  howling  waste 
A  small  and  evil  tent  of  the  unreal. 
Ye  powers  that  drive  upon  that  falling  roof 
Your  blazing  weapons  —  be  merciless  to  me. 
With  your  strong,  glittering  spears  stab  me  clean 

through. 


124  NIMROD 

Let  not  my  dangerous  spirit  rove  at  large. 
Fix  me  forever  on  some  shuddering  orb, 
Sad  and  for  ages  doomed.  For  if  I  go, 
Sweeping  through  space  my  pale  terrific  ghost, 
Against  mine  own  deep  will  I  shall  afflict 
The  duteous  orbits  of  the  stars ;  shall  drive 
My  hounds  of  fierce  negation  forth  with  howls, 
Devouring  living  entities,  until 
The  world  shall  reek  with  carcasses  of  thought. 
Or  I  might  snatch  from  Heaven  its  accuracies 
That  twist  and  wreathe  and  wonderfully  bind 
His  seasons  and  His  planets  !   Whirl  them  forth — 
Shuddering,  beautiful,  voluminous,  bright, 
Then  cast  them  hissing  underneath  my  feet 
With  all  their  cunning  gone  !  Then,  then  indeed, 
God's  whole  creation  fearfully  shall  rock ! 
Or  if  with  spells  of  hate  and  mutterings  deep 
I  snare  his  numbers  forth  from  midmost  air 
So  that  his  strong  foundations  crumble  quite! 
Think,  think,  ye  angels !  with  what  eyes  of  grief 
Ye  would  survey  your  aching  atmosphere, 
If  I  should  snatch  their  poles  from  the  swift  orbs 
Or  casting  grief  upon  the  air  whirl  forth 
Great  shrieking  circles  that  my  thought  had  flayed 
Of  their  circumference  —  or  if  my  hand 
Stripped  time  from  off  the  stars  —  then  —  Send 
me  peace! 


NIMROD  125 

Thou  blasting  light,  shine  not  upon  me  so 

That  I  should  see  the  face  of  mine  offence. 

Thou  burning  Truth  !   How  fearfully  lit  up 

Is  my  own  thought  before  me,  as  when  dark  crags 

Jutting  from  off  a  mountain's  thundering  peak, 

With  blazing  lightning  sheeted  in  living  flame, 

Glow  terribly  apparent. 

Oh, — if  from  out  my  spirit  there  had  sprung 

Some  great  new  virtue  —  someunimagined  good  — 

Such  as  the  angels  of  the  choiring  spheres 

Might  gaze  upon  with  love  and  breed  it  forth 

For  their  delight  —  like  great,  melodious  doves ! 

Then  should  this  cruel  splendor  show  me  plain, 

Set  on  time's  promontory  where  men's  eyes 

Gazing  upon  me  ever  should  behold 

Eternal  beauty  on  my  breast.   But  now, 

With  haggard  front  and  a  bewildered  eye, 

With  barren  countenance  and  shaking  bone, 

They  see  me  lifting  in  accursed  hands 

A  fearful  offering  of  archetypal  woe, 

Deep  in  my  breast  an  everlasting  shame, 

And  on  my  lips  an  immemorial  lie. 

Yet  shine,  shine  on,  thou  awful  Truth,  and  make 

My  deep  affliction  deeper.  Let  me  know 

Full  well  what  I  have  done.  Yes,  let  me  sit 

For  centuries  staring  at  this  deed  of  mine, 

So  I  may  see  on  it  thy  fearful  light 


126  NIMROD 

Nor  wholly  lose  thee  from  mine  eyes  gone  blind. 
Increase  my  woe.   Let  me  behold  thee  more. 
Oh,  not  with  slow  recessional  of  light 
Subdue  my  anguish  in  me.   Ease  me  not 
With  lesser  wisdom.   But  upon  my  soul 
Beat  down  thy  full  and  devastating  light. 
So  I  shall  mourn  for  aeons,  eternal,  sad, 
Original,  disastrous,  inventive,  stretched 
Upon  the  starry  wheels  of  cosmic  pain, 
Tremendous  and  afflicted,  huge,  chastised, 
Greatest  among  the  anguished  gods  of  wrong  — 
I  will  preserve  my  planetary  throes  — 
Nor  yield  my  nature  unto  smaller  pains." 

But  lo,  ere  he  was  done,  upon  the  peaks 
Of  his  soul's  mountains,  thunder  roared  and  shook 
The  hidden  regions  of  his  mind.  The  spears 
Of  multitudes  of  angels  flashed  and  plunged 
In  his  deep  substance,  as  the  fiery  bolt 
Buries  itself  in  stone.  Then  from  God's  eyes 
Swept  forth  a  cloud  of  darkness,  such  as  cast 
His  consciousness  in  foggy  night.   Bright  thoughts, 
Like  stars  in  the  deep  heaven  of  his  mind, 
Tore  their  fixed  bodies,  screaming,  from  that  sky, 
And  flashed  away  to  emptiness.   Oh,  then 
Was  Nimrod  seized  with  violent  grief  that  shook 
His  giant  limbs.   He  reared,  he  plunged,  he  bent. 


NIMROD  127 

He  filled  the  air  with  such  harsh  cries  as  when 

Wild  horses  deep  in  forest  fires,  raise 

Upon  the  shuddering  night,  unearthly  screams. 

He  swerved  this  way  and  that,  and  falling  prone 

Like  a  huge  herd  of  cattle,  beat  the  dust. 

Then,  raised  aloft,  he  flung  his  groaning  bulk 

Into  the  air  and  dizzily  swept  through  space 

Circles  of  anguish  as  if  a  falling  orb 

Wheeled  through  the  heavens  on  vast  curves  of 

pain. 

Then,  drawing  back  his  thousand  agonies, 
His  shakings,  sweatings,  terrors,  dreads,  despairs, 
His  furies,  retributions,  rages,  griefs, 
He  bound  them  as  the  fearful  hand  of  God 
Locks  fiery  whirlwind  into  speechless  stone. 
Silent  he  spread,  to  helpless  earth  appalled, 
And  Babel's  curse  fell  on  great  Nimrod's  tongue. 
Then,  then,  his  spirit's  golden  bastions  shook! 
His  starry  dome  of  high  philosophy 
Flung  down  its  meteors,  and  the  columns  huge 
Of  stately  logic  crumbled.   In  his  soul 
The  shining  architectures  of  sweet  tone 
Were  spread  in  ruin.   Down  the  corridors 
Of  his  dark  brain  plunged  wild  and  gusty  shapes 
Of  syllables  affrighted.   Routed  forth, 
Flared  great  white  faces  of  astonished  words. 
From  chambers  of  music  and  deep  vaults  of  sound 


128  NIMROD 

Where  they  had  hidden,  wild  and  lovely  dreams, 
Clothed  in  a  virginal  vesture  of  sweet  song, 
Went  mad  with  discord.  Then  forgetfulness 
Swept  its  slow  fogs  on  mighty  Nimrod's  brain. 
Awful  aphasias,  with  their  bleeding  whips, 
Scourged  from  its  palace  sweetly  singing  speech, 
Beautiful  symbols  out  of  music  made, 
Syllables  lovely,  metaphors  sweet  shaped 
That,  floating  brightly,  danced  before  the  Lord ; 
And  from  their  altars  many  a  priest-like  word 
They  drove  from  ceremonials  of  high  thought. 
Then  guiles  and  crafts,  wreathing  like  thick  black 

snakes, 

Choked  meaning  like  snared  birds  and  creeping  lies 
Soft,  thick  and  shining,  monstrous  and  snow  white, 
Coiled  palely  round  the  struggling  limbs  of  speech. 
Then  forth  upon  the  air,  not  to  return, 
There  leaped  from  Nimrod's  lips  terrific  sounds 
Driven  by  God's  anger.    Verbs  like  men  at  arms 
Charged   battling   forth ;    and   bold   and   blazing 

nouns 

Like  chariots,  fury  ridden  ;  adjectives 
That  spread  their  fiery  bellies  in  the  sun 
Till  all  their  quivering  wings  as  copper  shone ; 
Ejaculations  huge,  deep  tones  of  woe, 
Thundering  gutturals,  hissing  sibilants 
Of  fire-breathing  serpents  —  every  sound 


NIMROD  129 

That  once  had  ministered  to  dream  or  thought, 
Plunged  from  his  shouting  lips  and  shook  the  air, 
Blazed  brightly  on  the  shadowy  gale  and  then 
Swept  up  to  Heaven.    When  Nimrod  saw  them 

g° 
He  stood  confounded,  and  upon  him  fell 

Vacuity,  that  numbed  with  aching  sleep 
All  he  had  ever  known.  Then  did  he  seem 
Like  one  whose  will,  in  bitter  conflict  plunged, 
Grapples  with  thought,  but  with  a  flaming  shield 
That  Heavenly  warrior  to  the  Lord  returns. 
Then  from  those  lips  that  once  had  moved  the 

earth 
And  swayed  God's  ramparts  with  their  prayers, 

there  came 

First  accents  of  a  speech  before  unheard  ; 
Faint     murmurings,    and     sighs    and     querulous 

breaths, 

Mutterings,  peevish  whispers,  babble  wild, 
Bewildered  utterances  and  whimpering  cries 
Like  those  of  bleeding  curs.   And  fiercer  notes 
Of  astonishment  and  wrath  shook  from  his  lips, 
New  fearful  curses,  shoutings  of  dismay, 
Alarums,  prophecies  of  dire  events, 
And  wild  deliriums  of  mongrel  tones. 
But  when  he  strove  to  lift  his  voice  to  Heaven 
And  cast  with  splendor  before  the  Golden  Throne 


130  NIMROD 

His  great  and  ancient  prayers — then  his  vague 

lips 

Loose,  stammering,  uttered  speech  against  his  will, 
Terrible  laughter,  crazy  emptiness  — 
And  a  thick  mumbling  blurred  great  Nimrod's  lips. 
Then  did  he  speak  no  more.    But  knowing  now 
What  he  had  done  before  God's  face,  he  stood 
Refusing  from  his  voice  those  lesser  tones 
That  like  the  Titans  had  pursued  the  Gods 
From  his  Olympian  lips.  Silent  he  grew, 
Choosing  instead  to  be  forever  dumb. 
Thus  Nimrod  stood  and  the  slow  night  wore  on, 
And  her  dark  patience  wasted  into  dawn. 
But  when  that  august  silence  on  his  lips, 
Unbearable,  unending,  seemed  to  draw 
Her  soul  up  to  him,  as  the  old  dead  moon 
Bids  up  the  sombre  tide,  the  huddled  shape, 
That  had  so  long  been  crouched  at  Nimrod's  feet, 
Heaved  heavily  and  underneath  his  eyes 
Spoke  syllables  he  did  not  understand. 
But  when  upon  his  glassy  eye  there  shone 
The  pale  and  awful  beauty  of  her  face, 
Once  more  the  tranced  waters  of  his  mind 
Shone  with  the  glimmering  radiance  of  words, 
Reflections  of  such  thoughts  as  in  the  sky 
Of  his  soul's  Heaven  hung  like  spiritual  stars. 
And  a  vast  cry  issued  from  Nimrod's  lips, 


NIMROD  131 

A  primal  utterance  and  an  ancient  word. 
Then  did  eternal  silence  seize  his  tongue 
And  there  was  heard  no  more  upon  the  earth 
The  solemn  beauty  of  that  elder  speech. 


PART  VII 

And  they  that  went  from  Babel  were  a  host 
Of  mighty  men.  And  with  them  they  bore  forth 
Monsters  of  bronze  and  grotesque  images 
Cast  from  the  walls,  and  wandering  in  the  plains 
They  worshiped  these  false  gods  and  unto  them 
Were  terror  and  disaster.   For  since  God's  hand 
Cast  down  the  vessels  of  their  lying  tongue, 
Men  dwelt  no  more  in  brotherhood,  but  built 
Cities  against  each  other,  breeders  of  war, 
And  spoke  with  differing  and  hostile  speech. 
And  they  were  scattered  westward  on  the  plains 
And  built  up  mighty  cities  known  of  old, 
Dark  Nineveh  —  ferocious  Babylon. 
But  ere  they  left  the  desert  sands  they  turned, 
And  pointing  back  beheld  upon  the  plain, 
Besieged  with  glittering  armies  of  the  sun, 
The  ruins  of  great  Babel.   And  that  town 
Lay  in  vast  stillness.   In  the  silent  halls 
No  human  voice  broke  the  empty  air. 
No  human  footfall  when  the  dusk  was  cool 


132  NIMROD 

Left  desolate  sound  upon  the  echoing  stone ; 
But  in  the  deep,  reverberating  gloom 
Down  thundering  gullies  heaped  of  gold  and  bronze 
The  bell-like  roaring  of  the  unicorn  — 
And  in  far  courts  the  windy  satyr  screamed  ! 
At  night  with  mournful  voice  the  gusty  gale 
Searched  through  dark  corridors  of  ruinous  bronze. 
With  ghostly  shout  and  supernatural  cries 
It  filled  the  air  with  desolate  shapes  unseen. 
When  noon  was  hot,  the  desert  lion  came 
And  slaked  his  thirst  at  many  a  quiet  pool. 
Hyenas  laughed  where  once  sweet  courts  were 

green. 

The  flying  serpent  with  his  sighing  tune 
Beat  the  hot  sunshine  with  metallic  wings. 
Through  hideous  gorges  and  down  sounding  flumes 
That  had  been  streets  in  Nimrod's  mighty  town, 
Deep  rivers  roared  or  snow-white  cataracts  plunged. 
Dragons  were  in  their  pleasant  palaces  — 
Grey  wolves  howled  down  the  corridors  unseen. 
Over  hot  fragments  of  smooth  paving  stone 
In  bright  mercurial  arabesques  there  flamed 
The  glimmering  viper,  and  in  colonnades, 
With  brassy  columns  or  columns  of  black  bronze, 
Huge  snakes  in  cruel  stupor  darkly  hung 
Their  bulky  richness,  fierce,  arboreal. 
The  bat  beneath  the  arches  made  his  home. 


NIMROD  133 

And  all  alone  in  melancholy  halls, 
Over  a  windy  shadow,  swept  the  owl. 
Eve  after  eve,  through  jagged  clouds,  the  sun 
In  blood-red  splendor  gazed  upon  the  flumes, 
The  gorges  deep,  the  terrible  ravines 
Of  those  deserted  ruins.   It  did  not  seem 
Within  the  years  of  man,  but  might  have  been 
Some  fearful  ravage  of  primeval  gods. 
For  like  a  ruined  god  whose  fearful  shape 
Had  been  appalled  to  everlasting  stone, 
Rock-like  in  devastation,  with  his  beard 
Moss-like  upon  his  bosom,  and  his  hair, 
With  horror  whitened,  the  only  moving  thing 
Upon  the  air  of  night,  great  Nimrod  reared 
His  shattered  bulk.   Gigantic,  Nimrod  stood, 
Flanked  with  majestic  ruin.   But  his  gaze 
Was  set  against  the  darkness  and  the  wind. 
Huge  monsters   huddled   round   him  wrought  of 

bronze. 

He  had  not  moved  since  from  his  lips  that  last 
Great  ancient  word  had  broken,  but  he  stood 
With  arms  outstretched  and  mighty  palms  pressed 

down, 

Bulwarked  in  anguish  and  in  grief  composed. 
His  solemn  strife  besieged  the  midnight  gloom. 
Nor  might  that  shape  crouched  darkly  at  his  feet 
Shake  down  the  solid  bastion  of  his  woe. 


334  NIMROD 

For  since  the  moment  when  gigantic  grief, 
Bracing  his  bulwarks  war-like  against  time, 
Heaved  up  the  mighty  derricks  of  his  bone  — 
He  was  as  one  in  spirit  so  enthroned 
Beyond  mortality  that  never  more 
Might  he  know  grief,  save  of  his  spirit's  throes. 
As  if  an  anguished  angel  on  a  star, 
Throbbing  with  golden  immemorial  woes 
For  cosmic  wrong,  heard  not  upon  the  earth 
In  jungles  dark  the  howling  of  the  beast  — 
So,  fixed  upon  his  starry  orb  of  grief, 
He  gave  no  heed  unto  the  brutish  rage 
That  shook  the  mortal  forests  of  his  flesh. 
But  he  was  not  more  silent  than  the  shape 
Of  earth-like  devastation  at  his  feet. 
He  did  not  cry  to  her  nor  moved  at  all 
When  in  the  night  the  rolling  clouds  immured 
The  brightness  of  the  moon  and  in  the  dark 
Obscured  the  staring  whiteness  of  her  face. 
Nor  when  the  heavy  thunder  of  God's  throne 
Split  into  fearful  chasms  the  black  night 
And  he  was  sunk  in  dizzying  gulfs  of  rain. 
Nor  when  the  lightning   swept  him  forth  once 

more 

In  speechless  patience,  as  if  burning  wheels 
Had  whirled  him  up  from  nothingness  accursed, 
Stretched  on  a  vast  circumference  of  flame. 


NIMROD  135 

Nor  when  with  huge  and  fiery  bolts  he  seemed 
Struck  through  and  through  with  such  large  pangs 

as  gods 

Nailed  against  empty  chaos  might  endure  — 
The  great  progenitor  of  a  new  crime, 
Doomed  to  immortal  grief  and  cosmic  pain. 
For  still  his  crag-like  presence  flanked  the  gale 
Like  a  calm  precipice,  nor  did  he  shake 
His  citadel  of  woe.   But  when  at  last 
The  whirlwind  of  God's  chariot  rolled  away, 
With  shuddering  sinew  and  with  groping  hand, 
With  frightful  palsies  and  Teachings  of  dumb  pain, 
He  plucked  the  woman  crouching  at  his  feet, 
And  pointing  to  almighty  Heaven,  he  stretched 
A  hand  upon  her,  turning  to  the  sky 
The  pale  and  watchful  beauty  of  her  face. 
For  poised  aloft  out  of  dark  wracks  of  cloud, 
There  flamed  amid  the  fastness  of  the  sky 
A  monstrous  globule,  a  soft  shining  sphere, 
A  fearful  brightness,  stranger  than  a  star. 
A  vessel  of  pure  fire,  it  moved  serene. 
Eternal,  beautiful,  orbed  in  golden  light 
The  moon  shone  over  Babel  —  and  it  seemed 
As  if  an  Angel,  before  celestial  hosts, 
Raised  in  mid  Heaven  the  eternal  Word  of  God. 


THE  MONK  IN  THE  KITCHEN 

I 

ORDER  is  a  lovely  thing; 

On  disarray  it  lays  its  wing, 

Teaching  simplicity  to  sing. 

It  has  a  meek  and  lowly  grace, 

Quiet  as  a  nun's  face. 

Lo  —  I  will  have  thee  in  this  place ! 

Tranquil  well  of  deep  delight, 

Transparent  as  the  water,  bright  — 

All  things  that  shine  through  thee  appear 

As  stones  through  water,  sweetly  clear. 

Thou  clarity, 

That  with  angelic  charity 

Revealest  beauty  where  thou  art, 

Spread  thyself  like  a  clean  pool. 

Then  all  the  things  that  in  thee  are 

Shall  seem  more  spiritual  and  fair, 

Reflections  from  serener  air  — 

Sunken  shapes  of  many  a  star 

In  the  high  heavens  set  afar. 

II 

Ye  stolid,  homely,  visible  things, 
Above  you  all  brood  glorious  wings 


THE   MONK   IN   THE   KITCHEN      137 

Of  your  deep  entities,  set  high, 
Like  slow  moons  in  a  hidden  sky. 
But  you,  their  likenesses,  are  spent 
Upon  another  element. 
Truly  ye  are  but  seemings  — 
The  shadowy  cast-off  gleamings 
Of  bright  solidities.  Ye  seem 
Soft  as  water,  vague  as  dream ; 
Image,  cast  in  a  shifting  stream. 

Ill 

What  are  ye  ? 

I  know  not. 

Brazen  pan  and  iron  pot, 

Yellow  brick  and  gray  flag-stone 

That  my  feet  have  trod  upon  — 

Ye  seem  to  me 

Vessels  of  bright  mystery. 

For  ye  do  bear  a  shape,  and  so 

Though  ye  were  made  by  man,  I  know 

An  inner  Spirit  also  made 

And  ye  his  breathings  have  obeyed. 

IV 

Shape,  the  strong  and  awful  Spirit, 
Laid  his  ancient  hand  on  you. 
He  waste  chaos  doth  inherit  5 


138     THE   MONK   IN   THE  KITCHEN 

He  can  alter  and  subdue. 

Verily,  he  doth  lift  up 

Matter,  like  a  sacred  cup. 

Into  deep  substance  he  reached,  and  lo 

Where  ye  were  not,  ye  were;  and  so 

Out  of  useless  nothing,  ye 

Groaned  and  laughed  and  came  to  be. 

And  I  use  you,  as  I  can, 

Wonderful  uses,  made  for  man, 

Iron  pot  and  brazen  pan. 

V 

What  are  ye? 

I  know  not; 

Nor  what  I  really  do 

When  I  move  and  govern  you. 

There  is  no  small  work  unto  God. 

He  requires  of  us  greatness; 

Of  his  least  creature 

A  high  angelic  nature, 

Stature  superb  and  bright  completeness. 

He  sets  to  us  no  humble  duty. 

Each  act  that  he  would  have  us  do 

Is  haloed  round  with  strangest  beauty. 

Terrific  deeds  and  cosmic  tasks 

Of  his  plainest  child  he  asks. 

When  I  polish  the  brazen  pan 


THE  MONK   IN   THE   KITCHEN     139 

I  hear  a  creature  laugh  afar 

In  the  gardens  of  a  star, 

And  from  his  burning  presence  run 

Flaming  wheels  of  many  a  sun. 

Whoever  makes  a  thing  more  bright, 

He  is  an  angel  of  all  light. 

When  I  cleanse  this  earthen  floor 

My  spirit  leaps  to  see 

Bright  garments  trailing  over  it. 

Wonderful  lustres  cover  it, 

A  cleanness  made  by  me. 

Purger  of  all  men's  thoughts  and  ways, 

With  labor  do  I  sound  Thy  praise, 

My  work  is  done  for  Thee. 

Whoever  makes  a  thing  more  bright, 

He  is  an  angel  of  all  light. 

Therefore  let  me  spread  abroad 

The  beautiful  cleanness  of  my  God. 

VI 

One  time  in  the  cool  of  dawn 
Angels  came  and  worked  with  me. 
The  air  was  soft  with  many  a  wing. 
They  laughed  amid  my  solitude 
And  cast  bright  looks  on  everything. 
Sweetly  of  me  did  they  ask 
That  they  might  do  my  common  task. 


i4o     THE   MONK   IN   THE   KITCHEN 

And  all  were  beautiful — but  one 

With  garments  whiter  than  the  sun 

Had  such  a  face 

Of  deep,  remembered  grace, 

That  when  I  saw  I  cried  —  "Thou  art 

The  great  Blood-Brother  of  my  heart. 

Where  have  I  seen  thee?"  — And  he  said, 

"  When  we  are  dancing  'round  God's  throne, 

How  often  thou  art  there. 

Beauties  from  thy  hands  have  flown 

Like  white  doves  wheeling  in  mid  air. 

Nay  —  thy  soul  remembers  not? 

Work  on,  and  cleanse  thy  iron  pot." 

VII 

What  are  we?  I  know  not. 


DREAM 

BUT  now  the  Dream  has  come  again,  the  world  is 

as  of  old. 
Once  more  I  feel  about  my  breast  the  heartening 

splendors  fold. 
Now  I  am  back  in  that  good  place  from  which 

my  footsteps  came, 
And  I  am  hushed  of  any  grief  and  have  laid  by  my 

shame. 

I  know  not  by  what  road  I  came  —  oh  wonderful 

and  fair. 
Only  I  know  I  ailed  for  thee  and  that  thou  wert 

not  there. 
Then  suddenly  Time's  stalwart  wall  before  thee 

did  divide, 
Its  solid  bastions  dreamed  and  swayed  and  there 

was  I  inside. 

It  is  thy  nearness  makes  thee  seem  so  wonderful 

and  far. 
In  that  deep  sky  thou  art  obscured  as  in  the  noon, 

a  star. 


142  DREAM 

But  when  the  darkness  of  my  grief  swings  up  the 

mid-day  sky 
My  need  begets  a  shining  world.   Lo,  in  thy  light 

am  I. 

All  that  I  used  to  be  is  there  and  all  I  yet  shall  be. 
My  laughter  deepens  in  the  air,  my  quiet  in  the 

tree. 
My  utter  tremblings  of  delight  are  manna  from  the 

sky, 
And  shining  flower-like  in  the  grass  my  innocencies 

lie. 

And  here  I  run  and  sleep  and  laugh  and  have  no 

name  at  all. 
Only  if  God  should  speak  to  me  then  I  would 

heed  the  call. 
And  I  forget  the  curious  ways,  the  alien  looks  of 

men, 
For  even  as  it  was  of  old,  so  is  it  now  again. 

Still  every  angel  looks  the  same  and  all  the  folks 

are  there 
That  are  so  bounteous  and  mild  and  have  not  any 

care. 
But  kindest  to  me  is  the  one  I  would  most  choose 

to  be. 


DREAM  143 

She  is  so  beautiful  and  sheds  such  loving  looks  on 


me. 


She  is  so  beautiful  — and  lays  her  cheek  against  my 

own. 
Back  —  in  the  world  —  they  all  will  say,  "  How 

happy  you  have  grown." 
Her  breath  is  sweet  about  my  eyes  and  she  has 

healed  me  now, 
Though  I  be  scarred  with  grief,  I  keep  her  kiss 

upon  my  brow. 

All  day,  sweet  land,  I  fight  for  thee  outside  the 

goodly  wall, 
And  'twixt  my  breathless  wounds  I  have  no  sight 

of  thee  at  all ! 
And  sometimes  I  forget  thy  looks  and  what  thy 

ways  may  be  ! 
I  have  denied  thou  wert  at  all  —  yet  still  I  fight  for 

thee. 


THE  WARRIOR  MAID 

THEY  bade  me  to  my  spinning 
Because  I  was  a  maid, 
But  down  into  the  battle 
I  marshalled  unafraid. 

Brightly  against  the  sunbeams 
I  shook  the  flaming  lance. 
Then  out  I  swept  to  gather 
With  the  red  and  royal  dance. 

The  war  was  stately  in  me, 
And  in  my  heart  was  pride  — 
Fierce  moods  like  neighing  horses 
Most  terribly  did  ride. 

Deep  as  a  sea  of  scarlet 
I  saw  the  banners  roll  — 
And  then  the  great  war  terror 
Laid  hold  upon  my  soul. 

I  laughed  aloud  to  feel  it 
And  royally  did  cheer: 
I  strode  amid  my  tremblings 
And  did  not  fear  to  fear. 


THE   WARRIOR   MAID  145 

A  warrior  rode  against  me. 

I  laid  him  to  his  rest. 

I  could  not  stop  to  gather 

The  bright  sword  from  his  breasto 

But  on  I  drove  in  splendor, 
I  —  that  was  but  a  maid  — 
With  piercing  calls  of  triumph 
And  I  was  not  afraid. 

But  once,  beneath  my  charging, 
A  face  shone  up  below. 
Dead  in  the  bloody  furrow, 
A  stranger  white  as  snow  ! 

The  foe  rode  close  behind  me  ! 
I  lost  the  day  for  this  — 
I  sprang  from  off  my  stallion 
And  left  on  him  a  kiss. 

The  sword  that  pierced  his  bosom 
With  jewelled  splendor  shone. 
I  snatched  it  from  him  bleeding, 
And  lo,  it  was  my  own. 

The  spears  blazed  thick  around  me 
When  I  leaped  forth  again. 


146  THE   WARRIOR   MAID 

But  jubilant  they  found  me 
To  face  a  thousand  men. 


Bright-voiced  was  my  laughter, 
I  — that  was  but  a  maid  ! 
And  when  the  sharp  gyve  bound  me, 
Then  was  I  not  afraid. 

Ah,  hadst  thou  lived,  my  warrior, 
Among  the  glorious  ones, 
I  had  borne  thee  savage  daughters 
And  beautiful  fierce  sons. 


ERE  THE  GOLDEN  BOWL  IS 
BROKEN 

HE  gathered  for  His  own  delight 
The  sparkling  waters  of  my  soul. 

A  thousand  creatures,  bubbling  bright  — 
He  set  me  in  a  golden  bowl. 

From  the  deep  cisterns  of  the  earth 

He  bade  me  up  —  the  shining  daughter  — 

And  I  am  exquisite  with  mirth, 
A  brightening  and  a  sunlit  water. 

The  wild,  the  free,  the  radiant  one, 

A  happy  bubble  I  did  glide. 
I  poised  my  sweetness  to  the  sun 

And  there  I  sleeked  my  silver  side. 

Sometimes  I  lifted  up  my  head 

And  globed  the  moonlight  with  my  hands, 
Or  thin  as  flying  wings  I  spread 

Angelic  wildness  through  the  sands. 

Then,  woven  into  webs  of  light, 

I  breathed,  I  sighed,  I  laughed  aloud, 


148     ERE  THE  GOLDEN  BOWL  IS  BROKEN 

And  lifting  up  my  pinions  bright 

I  shone  in  Heaven,  a  bird-white  cloud. 

Then  did  I  dance  above  the  mead, 

And  through  the  crystal  fields  would  run. 

And  from  my  scarlet  splendors  breed 
The  golden  thunders  of  the  sun. 

Beneath  the  whitening  stars  I  flew 
And  floated  moon-like  on  the  breeze, 

Or  my  frail  heart  was  pierced  through 
With  sharp  sweet  flowers  of  the  trees. 

Of  giant  crags  I  bear  the  scars, 
And  I  have  swept  along  the  gale, 

Such  multitudes  as  are  the  stars, 
My  myriad  faces  rapt  and  pale. 

As  savage  creatures  strong  and  free 
Make  wild  the  jungle  of  the  wood, 

The  starry  powers  that  sport  in  me 
Habit  my  silver  solitude. 

From  out  my  smallness,  soft  as  dew, 
That  utter  fastness,  stern  and  deep, 

Terrible  meanings  look  at  you 

Like  visions  from  the  eyes  of  sleep. 


ERE  THE  GOLDEN  BOWL  IS  BROKEN     149 

I  cannot  leap  —  I  cannot  run  — 
I  only  glimmer,  soft  and  mild, 

A  limpid  water  in  the  sun, 

A  sparkling  and  a  sunlit  child. 

What  stranger  ways  shall  yet  be  mine 
When  I  am  spilled,  you  cannot  see. 

But  now  you  laugh  to  watch  me  shine, 
And  smooth  the  hidden  stars  in  me. 

Lightly  you  stroke  my  silver  wing  — 
The  folded  carrier  of  my  soul. 

A  soft,  a  shy,  a  silent  thing, 
A  water  in  a  golden  bowl! 


CONNECTICUT    ROAD    SONG 

IN  the  wide  and  rocky  pasture  where  the  cedar 

trees  are  gray, 
The  briar  rose  was  growing  with  the  blueberry  and 

bay. 
The  girls  went  forth  to  pick  them  and  the  lads 

went  out  to  play, 
But  I  had  to  get  to  Stonington  before  the  break  of 

day. 

And  when  I  came  to  Stonington,  she  was  a  town 

of  pride. 
41  Come  in,"  they  said,  "and  labor,  and  be  at  home 

and  bide. 
For  gold  shall  be  thy  wage,"  but  't  was  past  the 

hour  of  morn  — 
And  I  had  to  get  to  Jordan  while  the  dew  was  on 

the  thorn. 

There  is  a  girl  at  Jordan,  she  sweetly  smiled  at  me, 
As  pale  as  are  the  berries  on  the  gray  cedar  tree. 
And  "  Oh,"  she  cried,  "  thou  traveler,  come  bide 

awhile  with  me," 
But  I  had  to  get  to  Lebanon  while  light  was  in 

the  tree. 


CONNECTICUT   ROAD   SONG        151 

The  pale  church  spires  of  Lebanon  shone  sweet 

upon  the  sky. 
The  Sabbath  bells  were  ringing,  the  parson  passed 

me  by. 
"  Oh  wait,  traveler,  wait,  for  you  Ve  need  to  say 

a  prayer," 
But  I  had  to  be  in  Wallingford  while  noon  was 

in  the  air. 

The  road  that  leads  to  Wallingford,  it  runs  through 

mire  and  stone. 
I  was  parched  with  the  dust,  I  was  bleeding  and 

alone. 

u  My  lad,  you  will  die,  if  you  do  not  tarry  here." 
But  I  had  to  get  to  Killingworth  while  day  was  on 

the  mere. 

And  when  I  got  to  Killingworth  I  heard  the  people 

say 
u  He  has  come  to  bring  the  news  from  a  hundred 

miles  away." 

But  I  had  not  any  news  and  not  any  time  to  stay, 
For  I  had  to  be  at  Jericho  before  the  end  of  day. 

And  when  I  came  to  Jericho  I  heard  the  people  call, 
"  Do  you  run  to  save  a  city  that  you  will  not  wait 
at  all  ?  " 


152        CONNECTICUT   ROAD   SONG 

"  I  run  to  save  no  city,  yet  must  I  leave  you  soon, 
For  I  have  to  be  in  Windsor  with  the  rising  of  the 
moon." 

And  when  I  got  to  Windsor,  then  was  I  spent  for 

bread. 
"  Come  in,"  they  cried,  "  poor  traveler !  and  be 

thou  comforted. 
What  strange  great  need  is  on  thee  that  makes  thee 

journey  so  ?  " 
But  I  had  to  be  in  Coventry  ere  yet  the  moon  was 

low. 

For  a  strange  great  need  was  on  me  that  I  should 
hunt  the  rain, 

And  take  into  my  body  a  breakage  and  a  pain ; 

That  I  should  tame  the  sunset  and  goad  the  hurry 
ing  plain, 

And  that  the  leagues  behind  me  should  lie  a 
thousand  slain. 

Wherefore,  ye  men  of  Coventry,  if  ye  desire  to 

stay, 

Lay  not  your  curb  upon  me,  that  love  the  open  way. 
For  I  want  to  smell  the  dew,  the  blueberry  and 

the  bay, 
And  I  have  to  get  to  Colchester  before  the  break 

of  day. 


SO   I    MAY   FEEL  THE   HANDS 
OF   GOD 

How  swiftly,  once,  on  silvery  feet 
I  saw  thee  bound  beneath  the  sun ! 
Oh,  savage  innocence  !  The  fleet, 
The  wild,  the  sweet,  the  glistening  one ! 

God  made  in  thee  the  gentlest  sound 
To  win  for  thee  the  dear  caress. 
Like  flowers  growing  in  the  ground 
We  heard  that  trembling  daintiness. 

Thou  art  strange  Nature's  subtlest  child, 
The  offspring  of  her  alien  mood. 
Now  age  has  come  on  thee,  the  wild, 
And  stricken  thee,  the  simply  good. 

Animal  sweetness,  when  it  goes, 
Leaves  emptiness  behind. 
Dear,  thou  must  wither  like  the  rose 
And  dimness  take  thy  creature  mind. 

No  more  we  laugh  to  see  thee  run  — 
The  innocent,  the  fierce,  the  sweet ! 
Thy  snow-white  dancing  in  the  sun ! 
The  rushing  of  thy  happy  feet ! 


154     so  I  MAY  FEEL  THE  HANDS  OF  GOD 

The  hearthstone  and  the  friendly  touch, 
Thou  art  grown  needy,  now,  for  these. 
How  strange  that  wanting  them  so  much 
Thou  hast  forgot  the  arts  to  please. 

Oh,  creature  age  !  creature  distress ! 
The  haunting,  old,  and  dim  surprise  ! 
Would  I  might  charm  with  tenderness 
The  grief  from  those  bewildered  eyes ! 

Thou  hast  no  more,  at  love's  commands, 
The  simple  sweetness  of  a  purr. 
Then  let  me  comfort  with  my  hands 
The  saddening  of  thy  shining  fur. 

When  cold  afflicts  thy  piteous  sod 
Then  let  me  warm  that  need  of  thine, 
So  I  may  feel  the  hands  of  God 
Laid  over  thee  —  more  close  than  mine. 


TO   AN   ENEMY 


I  SAW  thee  once.  I  shall  know  thee  ever. 

Beyond  the  frantic  mesh 

Of  thy  wild  sorrowing  flesh, 

Oh,  thou  wert  beautiful  ! 

Let  me  be  dutiful 

To  thy  high  spirit. 

Knowing  thee  great  and  wise 

Let  me  inherit 

All  the  calm  Paradise 

Hidden  behind  thine  eyes. 

II 

Never  again  shall  any  way, 

Or  look,  or  word  of  thine  deceive. 

I  saw  thee  once.   I  must  believe 

The  vision  of  that  day. 

How  shall  I  say 

What  splendor  and  what  awe 
Seized  on  my  eyes  that  suddenly  they  saw, 

Beyond  all  praise  or  blame 
An  angelic  creature  shaped  of  snow  and  flame. 


156  TO    AN    ENEMY 

in 

Oh,  shame  on  me 

If  I  should  ever  be 

A  traitor  unto  thee ! 

If  I  believe  thy  lying  flesh  that  says 
"It  was  not  so." 

Or  if  its  wrathful  and  complaining  speech 
Make  me  forget  the  secret  lovely  ways 
Of  thy  soul's  ritual  ...  if  I  should  forego 

My  memory  of  thy  grace 
Or  how  in  a  strange  inner  place 
Just  for  a  moment  I  saw  thy  face. 

IV 

I  saw  thee  once.  I  shall  know  thee  ever. 

Swiftly  my  earthly  sight 
Shadowed  thy  lovely  light, 
Then  thy  mortal  semblance  gazed 

On  me  with  sullen  eye. 
I  wept  and  I  was  sore  amazed 

At  thy  deep  hostility. 
But  oh,  I  did  not  blame  thee 
When  thou  didst  rend  and  shame  me. 

I  said,  "The  wrong's  my  own 
That  was  so  dazzled  at  thy  spirit's  throne 
I  could  not  bear  the  splendor  and  the  might. 


TO   AN   ENEMY  157 

Why  shouldst  thou  not  accuse  me, 

Yes,  terribly  refuse  me, 
And  scourge  with  splendor  for  my  lack  of  sight ! " 


But  yet 
I  saw  thee  once  and  I  shall  not  forget. 

Faithful,  oh  faithful  will  I  be 
To  thy  more  starry  nature  sunk  in  thee, 

That  bright,  mysterious  guest, 
To  thine  own  thought  not  yet  made  manifest. 

I  will  do  thee  service  lowly 

Because  thou  art  so  holy. 

VI 

What  can  I  think  of  to  do, 

Beautiful,  because  of  you  ? 

Exquisite  actions  unto  thee, 

Deeds  that  thou  wilt  never  see, 

Hidden  from  thy  mortal  sight ! 
And  God  will  praise  thee  for  the  deeds  I  do, 
Knowing  that  somehow  they  were  done  by  you, 

Yes,  it  shall  be  my  sole  elation 

That  when  I  light  my  flame 

Saying,  u  In  thy  name  "  — 
That  deed  will  somehow  count  to  thy  salvation, 


158  TO   AN   ENEMY 

VII 

Then,  when  thy  mortal  self  shall  scorn  and  hate, 

And  from  thy  lips  shall  fall 

Harsh  condemnation, 
Therefore  I  will  exult,  nor  will  abate 

My  joyous  carnival, 

That  so  I  more  may  prove 

My  deep  and  ardent  love. 

VIII 

I  will  set  a  flower  to  grow 
Where  flowers  never  grew  at  all ; 

Down  low 

In  the  thick  grass,  or  covert  of  the  wall. 
Then  beauty  will  have  come  to  pass. 
I  will  drop  a  pebble  in  a  stream 
So  it  will  quicken  and  gleam 
And  brighten  all  alone 
A  joy  unto  none. 

Still  it  will  be 
Secretly  beautiful  —  and  all  for  thee  ! 

Because  thou  art ! 

So  will  I  make  thee  more  than  human, 
Set  thee  in  Heaven's  deepest  heart, 

One  of  God's  laws, 
Of  loveliness  the  being  and  the  cause. 


TO   AN    ENEMY  159 

IX 

Once  I  wished  my  mortal  self  to  be 

Of  my  own  deepest  self  the  fair  expression. 

Now  I  yield  it  unto  thee 
To  be  thy  glad  articulate  confession. 
Once  I  could  loiter,  growing  beautiful, 
And  serving  mine  own  soul  could  take  mine 

ease. 

I  serve  thee  now.  I  must  be  dutiful. 
Constant  as  sky  is,  urgent  as  the  seas, 
More  swift  than  time,  as  patient  as  the  trees, 
I  must  be  robed  in  natural  majesties. 
Yes,  shouting  to  the  cities  and  the  skies 

Show  thee  to  mortal  eyes. 


How  easy  heroisms  are, 

Now  I  have  seen  thy  face ! 
My  will  can  bind  them  as  God  binds  a  star, 
In  my  soul's  orbit.  Never  any  more 
Do  they  plunge  forth,  escaping  me  in  night. 
They  have  grown  docile  now,  and  with  delight 
Attend  me  ever,  brightening  my  brow. 
Oh,  in  my  breast  I  hold  their  throbbing  spheres, 
My  spirit  sings  with  laughter,  achieving  now 
What  once  it  did  with  bleeding  and  with  tears. 


160  TO   AN   ENEMY 

XI 

Beauty  in  many  a  secret  place 

I  will  make  for  thee. 

Because  I  saw  thy  face 

I  will  manifest  thy  grace 

And  thou  shalt  be 
A  visible  splendor  on  the  earth, 

A  festival  of  mirth  I 

XII 

Though  men  shall  see  thee  not  and  none  shall 

praise 

Thy  beauteous  hidden  ways, 
Still  I  will  not  be  daunted. 
My  spirit  shall  be  haunted 
With  thy  more  starry  nature, 
Thou  high  and  blessed  creature! 


SELENE 

Bur  when  Endymion,  wandering  alone, 
With  youth  and  love  of  loveliness  forlorn, 
Being  greatly  sorrowful  with  beauty,  came 
Upon  the  silence  of  a  moonlit  lake 
Deep  in  a  sacred  grove ;  and  when  he  saw 
How  in  the  water  a  pale  presence  shone, 
So  he  might  touch  that  ancient  loveliness, 
Yet  never  lay  a  hand  upon  the  moon  ; 
He  cried  aloud,  "  Oh,  Spirit  of  this  earth, 
That  in  the  flame  and  cloud,  water  and  wind, 
Hast  shed  thine  image,  yet  art  never  seen  ! 
Invisible  !  Where  art  thou  ?  " 

Then  to  him 

Selene  from  her  fastness  in  the  air 
Spoke,  with  no  mortal  voice  in  his  ear, 
But  to  his  soul  and  as  a  goddess  speaks 
With  divine  utterance.  "  Oh,  Watcher  !  Thou, 
Mover  among  innumerable  shapes 
And  lover  of  my  shadow,  many  years 
With  shining  substance  have  thy  hands  been  rilled 
And  pleased  with  lovely  changes.  But  on  me 
Thy  flesh  has  not  laid  hold.  Not  with  thine  eye 
Hast  thou  perceived  my  smoothness  and  thine  ear 
Has  heard  me  never.  Underneath  a  tree 


1 62  SELENE 

When   hast  thou  found  me  sleeping  ?  To  what 

spring 

Have  I  come  down  to  drink  ?  In  what  dark  groves 
Have  my  feet  led  thee,  shining  among  leaves  ? 
Thou  hast  not  seen  me  dance  among  the  nymphs 
Nor  sport  with  fauns  at  dusk.  For  in  this  world 
I  say  there  dwells  a  spirit  and  she  lives 
Hidden  even  from  the  gods,  and  of  her  face 
Zeus  has  not  dreamed.  She  is  consuming,  fierce, 
Beautiful  and  withheld.  She  layeth  waste 
The  gardens  of  men's  flesh — and  I  am  She. 
I  am  the  fearful  Huntress.  With  my  hounds 
I  all  men  must  pursue  until  they  seek 
My  silent  altar  in  an  ancient  place 
No  man  has  thought  on  and  no  eye  has  seen. 
I  am  the  Runner.  I  am  the  goddess  chaste. 
If  with  thy  fleshly  eye  thou  shouldst  perceive 
Mine  angry  whiteness,  swiftly  would  I  slay. 
For  I  am  set  apart  and  spiritual, 
And  me  in  spiritual  ways  thou  must  discern. 
Oh,  not  with  doves  or  bleeding  snow-white  hinds 
Or  incense  burned  or  harvest  of  wild  grapes 
Shalt  thou  appease  me.   But  thou  shalt  lay  down 
Upon  my  shrine  the  shadow  and  the  sound, 
The  sheen  and  whisper  of  the  tender  earth, 
All  shapes  and  brightnesses  and  music  sweet, 
And  soft  mysterious  touch,  the  breath,  the  look 


SELENE  163 

The  beauty  changing  ever.  From  thine  eyes 

All  loveliness  shall  pale.  Then  not  for  thee 

Shall  Aphrodite  from  the  golden  wave 

Blush  rosily  nor  from  the  snow-white  foam 

Float  like  a  star  before  thee.  Not  for  thee 

Shall  the  soft  nymphs  their  shining  dances  weave 

In  places  sweet  with  loveliness.  But  then, 

Out  of  the  hollow  of  thy  hand  shall  fall 

All  lovely  substance  that  has  ever  pleased 

Thy  finger  tips  with  shapes,  all  curves  that  shed 

Sweet  music  in  the  concave  of  thy  palm 

As  in  the  sky  the  orbed  planets  sing. 

Thy  sense  shall  be  obscured.  Thy  austere  touch 

Deny  the  chilly  sweetness  of  the  dew 

That  cools  the  apple  plucked  at  early  dawn 

Or  whitens  the  blue  grape.  Never  again 

Shall  thy  smooth  body  plunging  between  waves 

Divide  the  hard  bright  water  nor  thy  brow 

Flush  in  the  noonday  sun  nor  thy  feet  cling 

To  the  bare  rock  when  thou  dost  climb  high  hills. 

Thou  shalt  forego  the  tenderness  of  hands 

Nor  ever  feel  upon  thy  human  cheek 

The  sweetness  of  a  mortal  breath.  No  kiss 

Shall  leave  its  softest  shadow  on  thy  lips, 

But  thou  shalt  find  thyself  in  a  still  place 

Where  light  nor  shade  nor  forms  of  visible  things 

Nor  sense  of  things  perceived  with  hands  shall  wake 


1 64  SELENE 

Thy  heart  in  thee  —  not  one  least  sound  at  all — i 

As  when  the  shadow  of  a  cloud  shall  drift 

Dim  music  from  a  lonely  lake.  Not  then 

Shalt  thou  love  voices,  oh,  Endymion  ! 

Then  not  for  thee  strong  laughter  and  the  shouts 

Of  boys  beside  the  sea  cliffs  dragging  in 

Their  nets  at  yellow  evening ;  not  the  cries 

Of  girls  on  the  brown  beaches ;  nor  the  speech 

Of  mortal  love.  I  bid  thee  light  for  me 

A  blazing  fire  on  my  shrine  —  all  flames 

Of  suns  and  moons  and  stars,  such  glories  as  burn 

In  sunset  and  the  rose,  all  loveliest  hues 

That  on  this  earth  glow  brightest.  In  their  midst 

Cast  down  the  vision  of  thine  eyes  as  one 

Snares  from  the  sky  a  bird  whose  radiant  plumes 

Burn  amid  sacrificial  flames.   Oh,  Thou  ! 

Give  me  the  sound  that  in  thine  ears  doth  make 

Earth  good  to  thee.  Relinquish  from  thy  hands 

All  feelings  of  fair  things,  sweetly  entwined 

With  votive  wreaths  of  flowers.  Yet  not  in  death 

Yield  me  thy  body's  sweetness,  but  alive, 

Rapturous,  alert,  with  thy  desires  swift, 

Warm,  breathing,  upright,  in  thy  bourgeoning 

youth, 

With  consecrated  purpose  and  with  will 
Cast  in  my  flames  thy  sense  and  make  of  it 
A  fragrance  to  the  gods,  and  of  thy  flesh 


SELENE  165 

A  vapor  of  light  smoke.  For  I  am  one 
That  once  suspected  shall  not  ever  more 
Let  go  of  thee,  but  being  invisible 
Must  needs  disturb  thee  ever.    Never  again 
Shall  earth  seem  simple  to  thee,  beautiful 
With  shapes  familiar  and  with  readable  signs, 
But  thou  shalt  move  a  stranger  in  the  land 
And  thine  own  threshold  seem  an  alien  thing 
And  thy  hearth  fearful.  Earth  shall  complain  to 

thee. 

Then  all  things  shall  be  haunted  and  the  stones 
Shall  falter  words  obscure,  like  men  in  dreams, 
Of  things  unguessed  by  thee.  The  dust  shall  utter 
A  bright  foreboding.  Sound  shall  prophesy, 
The  air  grow  thick  with  shapes  unseen,  thy  hands 
Lay  hold  on  wonder  and  thy  heart  shall  break 
For  mystery  of  this  earth.   But  thou  must  be 
Unto  thy  kindred  as  a  man  unknown, 
Unheard  of,  in  thy  village,  and  thy  words 
Explain  thee  to  them  never.   I  shall  lie 
About  thy  spirit  with  my  ancient  mirth 
And  vex  thy  soul  in  secret,  disturbing  thee 
With  hurrying  brightnesses  that  come  and  go 
And  are  not  unto  others,  but  to  thee 
Obscure  dull  earth  with  beauty.  Thou  shalt  sus 
pect 
A  presence  in  the  solitude,  a  light 


1 66  SELENE 

Where  no  light  is.  This  world  shall  be  to  thee 
A  voice  that  cries  c  Behold ! '  So  all  seen  things 
Shall  drive  thee  to  my  bosom,  mine  —  that  men 
Flee  from  in  terror,  hating  me,  the  strong, 
The  ancient,  the  eternal,  the  wide  spread, 
The  many-breasted  mother,  the  Unseen  ! 
Dreadful  am  I  to  them;  yes,  feared  the  most 
Of  all  the  gods  —  whom  Zeus  from  the  beginning 
Made  separate  and  supreme,  relentless,  fierce, 
The  great  avenger,  scourger  of  men's  souls, 
Flesh-eater !  Aye  !  Me  do  they  hate  indeed. 
And  they  would  slay  me  in  my  secret  lair 
And  smite  me  with  sharp  whips  and  bleed  with 

swords 

And  drive  me  to  the  market  branded  c  slave,' 
Me,  the  fierce  Woman,  mistress  of  living  men  ! 
This  would  they  do  and  nudge  each  other  and  cry 
4  Well  done '  to  one  another. 

But  I  am  set 

Beyond  the  reach  of  hate.  Not  any  sword, 
No,  not  the  sharpest,  can  search  out  my  breast 
Here  in  my  silence  where  I  sit  and  watch 
With  my  eternal  laughter  and  disdain 
And  scorn  unspeakable.  Justly  they  fear, 
For  I  am  goddess  of  the  bow  and  strike 
With  my  bright  arrows  all  who  know  me  not. 
Yes,  with  my  darts  pursue  them  till  they  pluck 


SELENE  167 

From  out  their  breasts  the  bleeding  barbs  of  sense 
And  cast  them  underneath  their  feet  and  fall 
With  faces  in  the  dust  crying,  '  Pity  us, 
Oh,  Vanquisher  of  all  things  !   Ease  in  us 
Our  sharp  affliction,  heal  our  wounds  and  take 
Thine  anguish  from  us.'  Them  do  I  heal  indeed. 
But  those  who  see,  yet  heed  not,  being  unwise, 
How  this  earth  trembles  and  brightness  ails  and 

time 

Blows  all  things  from  us  like  a  mist  disturbed 
By  silent  air;  all  those  that  having  perceived 
My  dangerous  presence  have  not  sought  with  gifts 
My  altar,  and  from  consecrated  urns 
Pour  no  libations  of  rich  tears,  I  scourge 
With  my  sharp  rods  and  I  unleash  my  hounds 
And  set  them  on  them,  dividing  their  frantic  flesh, 
And  drive  them  into  Hell.   For  I  am  queen 
Of  earth  and  of  the  shades,  and  of  the  gods 
The  dark  mysterious  mother,  and  the  dead 
Worship  me  in  deep  places.   So  I  set 
My  anguish  on  them,  until  they  fill  the  air 
With  lamentation  and  cast  themselves  abroad 
Like  men  who  burn.   But  thou,  Endymion, 
Hast  sought  me  ever  and  art  not  afraid, 
Feeling  earth  reel  beneath  thee,  seeing  the  rocks 
Soft  as  dissolving  cloud  and  the  strong  hills 
Not  more  substantial  than  vague  dreams  when  I 


1 68  SELENE 

Steal  forth  upon  thee.  Thou  art  not  dismayed 
At  my  strange  brightness  when  I  lay  my  hand 
Upon  the  dust  and  turn  to  vanishings 
All  that  has  pleased  thee.  Thou  hast  not  turned 

away, 

Hiding  thy  face,  for  fear  thou  shouldst  perceive 
My  shrine,  built  in  the  air,  that  once  being  found 
Men  worship  me  forever,  and  their  flesh 
Floats  from  them   like  pale  smoke.  But  I  have 

seen 

How  thou  hast  sought  me,  yearning  unto  me, 
And  all  things  grow  distasteful  and  thine  eyes 
Weary  of  all  things.  I  have  watched  thee  ail 
Among  thy  kindred,  seeing  they  have  grown 
Alien  to  thee,  not  friendly  to  thy  tears, 
Marvelling  at  thy  laughter  and  at  thy  speech 
Nudging  each  other ;  for  thou  seest  cause 
For  solitary  mirth  when  in  their  eyes 
The  tears  are  heaviest.  Thou  art  cast  down 
When    they    are    brave    with    gladness.    Beauty 

strange 

Comes  on  thee  unaware  and  lures  thee  forth 
Under  their  very  eyes  to  a  far  land 
That  lies  betwixt  two  breaths,  and  is  as  deep 
With  hidden  beauty  as  Olympian  vales. 
Then  seek  me  ever,  where  in  a  secret  place 
I  have  for  centuries  waited,  aye,  all  time 


SELENE  169 

Have  waited  for  thee  —  virgin  to  the  gods, 
Untouched,  unseen  of  any.   Hunt  me  forth  ; 
Yes,  spy  upon  me  in  my  hiding  place 
Behind  the  branched  forests  of  the  stars 
In  my  deep  lairs  of  silence.  I  would  be  found, 
Yes,  feel  man's  eyes  upon  me  and  a  breath 
Laid  on  my  eternal  sweetness,  richly  chaste. 
Rend  from  me  all  the  shadowy  veils  of  sense 
That  men  in  the  beginning  wrought  for  me 
In  terror  lest  my  loveliness,  left  bare, 
Should  strike  them  dead.  For  I  am  beautiful, 
And  to  men's  ways  destruction,  and  to  their  flesh 
A  menace  always.  Wherefore  do  I  wear 
My  robes  of  brightness,  spun  of  gorgeous  dyes, 
Woven  of  waters  and  pale  stars  and  hills 
And  lovely  sky,  and  wrought  with  devious  sound 
And  weavings  of  dim  music.  Strip  from  me 
My  mantle  of  the  sun  and  moon  and  earth, 
Seasons  and  earthquakes  and  fierce  thunderbolts, 
Heavy  with  deep  mid  ocean,  soft  with  tears, 
Sweet  colored  with  rich  buds  and  mellow  fruit, 
Aglow  with  mortal  smiles  and  floating  hair, 
And  flashing  with  innumerable  eyes. 
Rend  it  in  twain.  Lay  hold  on  it,  I  say, 
For  what  ye  dream  is  solid  and  stout  earth, 
Is  mine  apparel,  fluttering  like  smoke 
About  mine  inner  fire.  Oh,  be  swift, 


1 7o  SELENE 

And  watchful  with  thy  spirit,  for  on  hills 
Invisible  to  man,  in  forests  deep, 
Unthought  of  by  the  gods,  I  hunt  men's  souls, 
And  rush  upon  them  with  sharp  savage  cries. 
Reach  forth  thy  mighty  hands  and  rend  from  me 
The  mortal  garment,  hiding  from  thine  eyes 
My  deep  immortal  beauty.   Unswathe  the  light. 
Then,  then,  Endymion,  with  what  rich  reward 
Shall  I  delight  thee  ?   With  what  circumstance 
Shall  I  uplift  thee  to  the  eyes  of  the  world, 
A  flaming  pillar  set  in  a  pillar  of  cloud  ? 
This  will  I  give  to  thee  ;  thou  shalt  be  struck 
With  blinding  awfulness,  and  beauty  fierce 
Consume  with  splendor  every  mortal  dream 
From  thy  soul's  tissue.  Thou  shalt  sink  unsaved 
From  anguish  into  anguish.  Yes,  shall  drift 
Like  spiritual  ashes  in  a  wind  of  flame. 
But  when  I  see  thee  cleansed  with  beauty,  fresh 
As  tenderest  mist  of  morning,  mild  as  dew, 
With  wisdom  infantile,  helpless  as  cloud, 
Lovely  as  starry  water,  beneath  mine  eyes 
A  placid  well  that  knows  not  anything 
Save  to  be  bright ;  then  will  I  shine  on  thee. 
Thou  shalt  receive  my  beauty  in  thy  soul 
As  the  clear  lake  accepts  the  radiant  moon ; 
And  I  will  lead  thee  to  a  pleasant  land 
Whose  greener  vales  no  eye  has  ever  seen." 


SELENE  171 

But  now  Endymion  stretched  his  mighty  arms 
Up  to  the  starry  heavens  and  the  hills 
And  to  the  whirling  clouds  and  cried  aloud  : 
u  How  shall  I  rend  this  earth  in  twain  or  snatch 
From  thy  pure  being  the  sky  with  all  its  suns, 
And  its  strong  meteors  ?   How  shall  I  strip  from 

thee 

The  mountains  and  the  violence  of  wars, 
And  human  breath  and  mortal  loveliness, 
Woven  with  spells  !   Magical !   Beautiful  ! 
How  shall  I  rid  thee  of  it  ?   Should  I  slay 
Thousands  of  doves,  nature  would  have  a  mind 
To  breed  again  innumerable  wings. 
Shall  I  stab  water  at  its  source  ?   Unweave 
The  solid  earth  beneath  me  ?   With  what  sword 
Shall  I  divide  the  sky  and  with  what  chains 
Bind  into  slavery  the  snow-white  cloud  ? 
Oh,  what  is  man  that  he  should  rend  the  earth 
And  tear  its  webs  of  splendor  ?  Yet  on  me 
Has  this  desire  fallen  !   I  must  turn 
To  ways  unheard  of  and  with  spiritual  hands 
Unswathe  the  veils  that  hide  thee,  goddess  strange, 
Loved  always,  terrible.   Wherefore  I  say, 
Ye  sights  and  sounds  of  earth,  I  will  deny 
Your  presence  to  my  spirit.  I  will  forbid 
Touch  to  my  hands  and  vision  to  mine  eyes. 
Yes,  I  will  lift  my  radiant  senses  up, 


172  SELENE 

Burning  with  sweetest  odors  at  thy  shrine, 

Like  golden  vials,  to  be  filled  by  thee. 

Thee  will  I  worship  only.  Never  more 

Shall  my  thought  covet  earthly  loveliness 

That  is  thy  vesture,  but  my  will  shall  turn 

My  spirit  to  things  spiritual.  I  will  rend 

Thy  mortal  garment,  hiding  from  mine  eyes 

Thy  deep  immortal  beauty.  Lift  the  veil 

And  from  thy  secret  brightness,  unswathe  the  light. 

Then  lead  me  forth  into  a  pleasant  land 

Whose  greener  vales  no  man  has  ever  seen." 

But  ere  his  words  were  done,  upon  his  eyes 

A  flaming  spirit  rushed,  wearing  a  shape 

Of  virgin  nothingness,  whose  whiteness  shone 

Like  frost  on  fire.  She  was  beautiful 

Beyond  men's  prayers  for  beauty,  and  she  drew 

Her  silvery  flesh  out  of  the  starlit  air 

And  her  cold  sweetness  from  the  midnight  dew. 

Virginal  was  she,  loveliest,  austere 

With  visible  purity.  A  godlike  love 

Swathed  her  soft  shape  in  plumes  of  snow-white 

flame, 

And  unto  him  she  cried  "  Endymion, 
What  hast  thou  sworn  ?   Behold  how  in  a  shape 
I  come  to  thee  and  out  of  substance  weave 
A  visible  semblance  for  thee  of  my  soul. 
My  flesh  is  breathed  out  of  the  glittering  air 


SELENE  173 

And  fragrance  of  the  night.  I  come  to  thee 

With  beauty  terrible  —  to  the  gods  austere  — 

But  unto  thee  on  fire  with  love.  Lo  now, 

Shall  I  not  tempt  thee  from  my  own  soul's  plea, 

I  —  that  am  in  her  image,  beautiful  ? 

Wilt  thou  refuse  me  ?  Shall  my  splendor  ail 

Before  thee  and  my  loveliness  blow  out 

Before  thy  blindness  like  a  midnight  gale  ? 

Lo  now  —  I  am  embodied,  lord,  for  thee, 

Of  sight  and  sound  and  sweetest,  shyest  earth. 

Wilt  thou  forswear  my  visible  loveliness 

For  my  far  spirit,  consuming  and  unseen  ? 

Me  thou  canst  master !   Me  thou  needst  not  fear 

For  all  my  fearful  shining !   Me  thou  canst  drive 

Before  thee  like  a  slave,  humbled  and  bright, 

Meek  with  afflicted  beauty.  Thou  canst  scourge 

My  magic  powers  to  do  thy  will  and  I 

Shall  have  no  word  before  thee  but  to  cry 

4  Master '  beneath  thy  hand. 

But  She,  my  bright 

And  Heavenly  Spirit,  thou  canst  not  subdue, 
But  she  will  rule  thee  always,  and  thou  shalt  be 
Helpless  before  her.  While  the  moment  waits, 
Wilt  thou  deny  me,  whom  the  gods  in  vain 
Have  wooed  on  high  Olympus  ?  Chase  me,  I  say — 
Hunt  me,  as  she  has  hunted  thee,  with  hounds. 
Heed  not  my  godlike  screams  when  in  the  vales 


1 74  SELENE 

I  run  from  thee  in  terror  lest  thy  breath 
Shall  burn  my  hurrying  whiteness  as  it  flees. 
Rush  on  me,  seize  me,  rend  me  with  thy  hands  — 
Streak  me  with  blood  and  cast  me  on  the  ground 
Throbbing  beneath  thine  eyes  like  a  white  hind 
Slain   by  the   hunter.    Then   thou   shalt  comfort 

me  — 

And  lift  me  to  thy  bosom,  of  fleetness  shorn, 
As  a  wild  bird  of  wings,  and  pitying 
My  godlike  terror,  with  thy  mighty  arms 
Bind  my  deep  pantings  back  into  my  breast." 
But  when  Endymion  saw  how  beautiful 
She  paled  before  him,  poised  in  the  air 
Like  music  amid  silvery  strings,  he  cried, 
u  Oh  Divine  Ghost,  that  from  an  invisible  shrini 
Communed  with  me  in  secret,  save  me  !   Save 
My  helpless  spirit  from  thy  beauty  seen. 
Oh  not  with  wrath  avenge  thy  semblance  cast 
Forth  from  thy  vision,  if  I  shake  thy  dews 
Of  mortal  sweetness,  hissing  among  flames 
Of  sacrificial  fire  !   Oh  sight !   Oh  sound  ! 
Oh  Beauty  seen,  begone  !   For  I  am  sworn 
To  one  invisible  !  "  .   .  . 
Then  from  the  savage  precincts  of  mid-air 
Rose  laughter  of  disdain  and  ghost-like  tones 
That  uttered  things  unspeakable  and  strange. 
And  the  Shape  wavered  like  a  snow-white  cloud 


SELENE  175 

Dispersed  at  morning.   Fearfully  she  shone, 

Out  of  a  brightly  changing  vapor.  Then 

Her  starry  presence  melted  on  the  gale 

And  her  pale  substance  mingled  with  the  stream. 

But  at  Endymion's  feet  in  ruin  lay 

All  of  earth's  beauty,  and  the  watchful  nymphs 

Wept  in  their  fastness.   Brightness  had  withered. 

Shape 

Was  crumbled  into  dust.  From  leaf  and  bough 
And  star  and  hill  and  sky,  the  glory  waned. 
All  of  earth's  splendor,  beating  round  about, 
Fell  back  before  his  sightless  eyes  as  foam, 
Dashed  from  the  sharp  rocks,  sinks  into  the  sea. 
All  things  whereon  his  eyes  that  night  had  gazed 
With  mortal  longing,  lay  about  his  feet 
Like  planets  dead,  while  he,  obscured  with  dream, 
Seemed  gazing  on  some  inner  thing.  The  earth 
Smoked  palely  forth  in  curling  wreaths.  The  rocks 
Swam  dizzily.  The  solid  mountains  gleamed 
Like  the  unsteady  sea.   Upon  the  air 
Melodious  ashes  blew  of  music  burned. 
Then    did  he    stand   like  a  god   blackened   and 

charred 

Amid  the  ruins  of  the  world,  transfixed 
By  things  invisible  but  unto  him 
Visible  now  forever.   Only  once 
He  seemed  like  one  in  traps  of  anguish  snared. 


176  SELENE 

His  introspective  eyes,  in  a  far  place, 
Fought  battles  with  fierce  visions  and  laid  hold 
Of  spiritual  horror,  nameless  and  unknown 
To  any  man  on  earth.   His  body  wept 
Great  drops  of  living  tears  and  his  pale  flesh 
Quivered,  as  if  upon  an  altar  lone, 
They  had  stretched  him  bare  amid  a  fire  to  burn. 
Once,  in  the  silence,  great  Endymion  groaned. 
Then  did  the  nymphs  with  their  pure  eyes  dis 
cern 

Another  world  grow  visible.  It  gleamed 
Upon  the  circling  vapors  of  stout  earth 
With  sudden  brightnesses  of  tower  and  dome. 
Great  blazing  cities  changed  upon  the  gale. 
Fair  courts  and  blossoming  gardens,  lovelier  groves 
Than  had  by  mortal  eyes  been  seen.  The  night 
Was  full  of  rushing  gods,  whose  large  white  feet 
Sloped  up  the  midnight  gale.  Bright  swarms  of 

eyes 

Flashed  in  the  air  like  multitudinous  stars. 
Prophetic  voices  screamed  upon  the  wind. 
Then  from  a  place,  beyond  all  countries  far, 
Beyond  all  beauty,  beautiful  —  a  land 
Of  pleasantness  divine,  a  land  unseen  — 
There  came  a  godlike  and  exalted  cry 
And  a  great  voice  proclaimed  "  Endymion  !  " 
But  on  the  bank  beside  the  glittering  lake 


SELENE  177' 

Sank  great  Endymion,  his  limbs,  moon-charmed, 
Stretched  in  the  moss.  And  the  moon  sunk  and 

day 

Reddened  —  and  lo  —  out  of  the  glen  stole  forth 
Full  many  a  silent-footed  wondering  nymph 
To  watch  his  dreaming  loveliness.  For  now 
His  blossoming  splendor  breathed  such  fragrance 

sweet 

As  divine  roses  yield.  His  body  seemed 
Like  garlands  of  cool  flowers  lightly  twined 
About  a  heavenly  fountain  of  clear  flame. 
His  chasted  substance  shaped  of  burning  snow 
Shone  rose  and  silver.  For  a  godlike  change 
Had  come  on  him  in  slumber  and  he  lay 
In  youth  eternal,  exquisite  with  dream. 
Now  from  his  spirit  ever  and  anon 
A  ghostly  beauty  floated  into  sight 
And  like  a  lily  in  a  lake  moon-pale 
Swam  in  the  placid  silence  of  his  smile. 
Then  did  the  nymph  who  hovered  near  his  sleep 
Cry  to  the  dryads,  "'Tis  Selene's  kiss." 
Now  from  his  shape  divinest  odors  rose 
As  if  a  golden  casket  set  in  flames 
Breathed  out   sweet  vapors  on  a   shrine.   Warm 

shades 

Hovered  about  him,  tender  hues  obscure 
And  mothlike  splendors  of  invisible  wings 


I78  SELENE 

Whereby  men's  eyes  had  never  yet  been  pleased. 

Now  from  the  lyre  of  his  exalted  flesh 

Music  exhaled,  unutterably  strange. 

Now  from  his  secret  fountains  of  delight 

The  radiant  smiles  up  welled  and  then  the  nymph 

Feared  not  to  lean  her  cold  and  virgin  mouth 

And  sip  the  scarlet  bubble  from  his  lips. 

All  nature  fed  on  him.   She  cried,  "  Behold  — 

Thou  fount  of  golden  loveliness  !  thou  spring 

Of  silvery  sweetness  flowing !  thou  basin  bright 

Wherein  life  pours  with  solemn  melodies 

The  music  of  her  waters !   let  me  drink 

Of  thy  immortal  presence  and  not  die." 

But  when  a  goat-herd,  wondering  that  his  flocks 

Were  prospered  and  that  they  each  night  returned, 

Their  udders  plenteous  with  fragrant  milk 

And  with  such  odors  clinging  to  their  flanks 

It   seemed  the  nymphs   had   dressed  them   with 

sweet  wreaths, 

Sought  out  the  pastures,  wandering  at  dusk, 
And  in  the  moonlight  stole  upon  the  glen 
And  saw  Endymion  lying  and  beheld 
Him  beautiful  with  slumber  and  alone, 
Solemn  as  alabaster,  as  austere, 
Effigied  on  the  silent  tomb  of  night ; 
Carved  in  the  magic  marble  of  pale  sleep ; 
And  saw  the  unearthly  splendor  of  the  grove, 


SELENE  179 

How  dark  and  deep  and  radiant  its  trees 
Swathed  in  the  mystic  terror  of  the  night ; 
How  shadowed  with  black  grapes  or  glowing  pale 
With    amber-colored    grapes ;    and    saw  strange 

fruits 

Strewn  on  the  ground  as  if  invisible  boughs 
Had  shed  their  glories  at  his  feet  and  saw 
How  from  the  bee-loved  crevices  of  rock 
Streamed  the  warm  honey ;  and  beheld  his  herd 
Crop  the  deep  grass  whereon  Endymion 
Had  shed  the  fertile  shadow  of  his  sleep ; 
He  was  affrighted,  and  stealing  silently 
Out  of  that  grove,  god-haunted,  he  went  his  way 
Back  to  the  village  and  there  he  told  strange  things, 
So  that  thereafter  if  a  herd  grew  fat 
They  said,  "  It  is  Endymion's."  And  that  land 
Was  prospered  like  the  secret  vales  that  lie 
In  the  footholds  of  Olympus,  and  they  knew 
The  river  of  Endymion's  sacred  sleep 
Had  overflowed  the  valley  and  blessed  its  fruits 
And  made  its  harvests  bountiful. 

But  when, 

Once  and  again,  some  vision-haunted  youth 
Would  seek  the  glens  and  forests  and  alone 
Commune  with  the  high  gods,  they  warned  him, 

saying, 
"  Be  thou  content  with  thine  own  kind.  At  home, 


i8o  SELENE 

Love  thine  own  thatch  and  at  a  quiet  hearth 
Grow  old  like  us,  in  peace,  knowing  not  much, 
But  living  as  men  live,  and  at  the  last 
Dying  as  men  die,  underneath  a  roof. 
Commune  not  with  the  gods.  They  give  to  thee 
Strange  gifts  and  alien  and  on  thee  will  bring 
A  doom  unhuman." 

Thus  spake  they,  of  their  kind, 
In  the  small  village,  fearing  the  unseen. 


THE   WEDDING  FEAST 

PART   I 

OH  who  art  thou  —  thou  fearful  guest  — 
Too  burning  bright,  too  strangely  fair  ? 
u  /  am  the  deemon  of  unrest, 

From  the  kingdom  of  the  air" 

Brightness,  I  bid  thee  from  my  door. 
Off!  off!  I  say,  with  spur  and  goad  ! 
"  /  have  come"  he  cried,  "  to  drive  the  bride 
Over  a  lonely  road" 

But  where  ?  But  where  ?  In  earth  or  air 

Where  would  ye  hurry  me  ? 
u  To  a  bright  place  we  must  repair 
Where  She  would  have  us  be. 

"  Her  power  this  night  is  on  us  both, 

And  I  am  sent  by  Her. 
Pale  wandering  shape,  thou  shalt  obey 
Her  flaming  messenger" 

Oh  let  me  be  for  a  single  night. 
For  a  single  night,  lord,  let  me  be. 


1 82  THE    WEDDING    FEAST 

The  torch  is  lit,  the  feast  is  bright, 
My  love  has  come  to  marry  me ! 

u  /  cannot  wait  for  a  single  night ! 
Her  voice  calls.    Jfe  must  be  gone  ! 
Her  feast  is  set  with  lovelier  light 
And  She  is  whiter  than  the  sun" 

Oh  let  me  be  for  a  mortal  hour, 
For  a  mortal  hour,  lord,  let  me  be, 
That  I  may  bring  my  lover  the  wine 
And  that  he  may  break  the  bread  with  me. 

"  /  cannot  wait  for  a  mortal  hour. 
Her  splendor  calls  us  from  afar. 
She  fain  would  sup  from  a  living  cup 
Her  radiant  hands  have  lifted  up 
Like  the  brightness  of  a  star" 

Oh  let  me  be  for  a  breath  of  time, 

For  a  breath  of  time,  lord,  let  me  be. 

I  shall  run  more  warm  through  cold  and  storm 

If  my  love  has  given  a  kiss  to  me. 

u  I  cannot  wait  for  a  breath  of  time. 
There  'j  many  a  league  for  us  to  run^ 
Through  brake^  through  mirey 


THE   WEDDING   FEAST  183 

Through  frost,  through  fire, 
To  Her  palace  of  the  sun." 

What  shall  I  do  in  her  palace  bright  ? 
Why  should  she  bid  me  there  ? 
"  Love  waits  outside  Her  door  to-night 
In  Her  citadel  of  air. 

"  Unto  Her  breast  He  fain  would  come, 
But  Him  She  will  not  see, 
Unless  the  bread  She  sets  for  Him 
Shall  of  thy  body  be." 

She  is  a  witch,  bright  as  the  devil. 
She  shall  not  lay  her  spells  on  me. 
She  is  a  bubble,  blown  of  evil, 
Pale  foam  of  an  unholy  sea. 

u  She  lifts  a  goblet  from  her  breast. 
Like  a  star  She  holds  it  up. 
She  will  not  bid  Him  in  to  feast 
Unless  thy  soul  is  in  the  cup." 

Witches'  feet  shall  never  tread 
From  my  soul  its  precious  wine. 
Her  Love  shall  not  go  comforted 
With  holy  blood  of  mine  ! 


1 84  THE   WEDDING   FEAST 

"  Her  lips  shall  never  be  the  throne 
Whereon  shall  rule  Her  great  Love's  kiss 
Unless  I  snatch  theefrom  thine  own 
And  whirl  thee  through  the  dark  abyss. 

"  If  She  lose  what  She  desires 
Her  sufferings  will  be  more  than  human. 
She  is  wrought  of  Heavenly  fires, 
Greater  than  any  mortal  woman. 

u  She  would  ravage  wide  and  high, 
Dashed  from  Her  orbit  out  of  space. 
Meteors  should  not  burn  the  sky 
More  than  the  stars  Her  face" 

Then  let  her  lose  and  let  her  bear 
Alone  her  strange  and  mighty  grief. 
I  will  not  shed  a  single  tear 
To  bring  her  soul  relief. 

"  Thou  wilt  not  ?  Nay  —  beneath  Her  eyes 
Thou  art  a  helpless  creature. 
She  is  the  music  of  the  skies 
And  thou  art  wanton  nature" 

Is  she  of  the  land  of  faery, 

That  she  should  be  so  brightly  cruel, 


THE   WEDDING   FEAST  185 

In  a  ghostlike  palace  airy, 

Cloud  built,  set  with  many  a  jewel  ? 

Is  she  charmed  and  is  she  spelled  ? 

Is  she  of  magic  softly  woven  ? 

I  will  pray  to  my  Lord  God. 

He  shall  rule  her  with  his  rod, 

The  way  betwixt  us  twain  be  cloven. 

u  She  is  charmed  and  She  is  spelled. 
She  is  not  of  the  land  of  faery. 

Tes  —  She  is  brightly  cruel  — 
Ghostlike^  in  a  palace  airy^ 
Set  with  stars  like  many  a  jewel. 

Pray  to  thy  Lord  God. 
She  is  of  such  wild  magic  woven 
He  will  not  rule  Her  with  His  rod 
Nor  shall  the  road  to  Her  be  cloven" 

Oh  goblin  bright,  thou  fierce-eyed  sprite, 
I  fear  thee  with  thy  spur  and  goad ! 
"  I  am  Her  Will  that  drives  thy  fight 
On  Her  appointed  road" 

But  who  is  she  whose  magic  will 
Seems  such  a  fearful  thing  ? 
Tell  her  I  rule  my  kingdom  still, 
The  daughter  of  a  king. 


1 86  THE  WEDDING   FEAST 

u  Thy  kingdom  is  of  sea  and  land, 
Unstable  as  the  glittering  wind. 
She  rules  thy  nature  with  Her  hand 
In  the  kingdom  of  the  mind" 

Who  is  she  and  what  is  she, 
That  I  should  follow  as  night  the  noon  ? 
"  She  is  deeper  than  the  sky 
And  taller  than  the  fire-white  moon, 

"  The  sunsets  of  the  eternal  years 
Yield  unto  Her  their  mellow  wines. 
The  sunrise  of  all  living  spheres 
Her  breast  incarnadines" 

I  hate  her  that  she  shines  so  bright. 
I  hate  her  for  her  elfin  dower. 
I  hate  her  that  she  rules  this  night 
With  an  unearthly  power. 

Who  is  she  and  what  is  she, 
Thou  blazing,  bright,  mysterious  elf? 
u  She  is  the  empress  over  thee  — 
Thy  deep,  eternal  Self. 

"  As  time  from  out  the  skies  shall  thresh 
The  stars  with  all  their  ancient  fires, 


THE   WEDDING  FEAST  187 

She  bids  me  scourge  from  out  thy  flesh 
The  throbbing  of  its  deep  desires. 

"  Wherefore  beware  !    Wherefore  beware  ! 
Her  will  upon  this  night  be  done. 
I  V/  drive  thee  forth  into  the  air 
And  we  will  dart  into  the  sun." 

PART    II 

With  fires  bedight  that  magic  sprite 
Leaped  upon  my  back  to  ride. 
He  was  a  creature  fierce  and  bright. 
He  struck  his  spurs  into  my  side. 

"Oh  leave  me  to  my  mortal  mirth ! 
I  am  afraid  of  that  bright  spirit. 
I  am  too  young  to  quit  this  earth. 
Nay,  let  me  this  sweet  earth  inherit. 

u  If  I  should  gaze  upon  her  face 
A  fearful  change  on  me  would  come. 
Then  I  should  be  estranged  with  grace, 
An  alien  in  my  home. 

"When  at  the  hearth  I  drive  my  loom 
And  my  love  gazes  in  my  eyes, 


1 88  THE   WEDDING   FEAST 

He  will  see  powers  and  thrones  and  doom 
And  suns  and  stars  and  ancient  skies. 


"  Then,  when  he  reaches  for  my  hands, 
No  smallness  will  he  comfort  there, 
But  he  will  touch  the  seas,  the  lands, 
The  seasons  and  the  throbbing  air. 

"  When  from  her  splendor  I  return 
And  in  the  flesh  dwell  once  again, 
Too  mystic  warm  my  heart  shall  burn 
To  please  the  hearts  of  men. 

"  Unearthly  bright  my  brow  would  gleam 
To  them  that  hate  all  brightness  still. 
My  laughing  calm  to  them  would  seem 
Like  snow  upon  a  hill. 

"  They  would  resent  my  high  emprise, 
My  haunted  speech,  my  echoing  mien. 
I  could  not  shake  from  out  mine  eyes 
The  visions  they  had  seen. 

"  I  should  be  charged  with  errands  high, 
Strange  roads  should  bind  my  speeding  feet. 
Then  I  should  be  a  voice,  a  cry, 
A  portent  in  the  street. 


THE   WEDDING   FEAST  189 

"  I  fear  her  call.  I  fear  her  face. 
I  fear  the  silent,  shining  change. 
They  will  stone  me  in  the  market  place 
For  uttering  lovely  things  and  strange ! 

"  But  oh,  not  they,  with  living  whips, 
Shall  scourge  from  me  my  folded  wings, 
Nor  burn  with  flames  from  off  my  lips 
Murmurs  of  dread  ecstatic  things. 

"  But  yet,  abhorring  when  I  go 
With  gracious  gifts,  sweet  as  the  sky, 
They  in  the  dust  will  lay  me  low, 
And  at  the  last  will  crucify. 

"  Lord,  let  me  keep  these  eyes  that  weep, 
This  heart  that  breaks,  these  wounds  to  bind, 
These  limbs  that  leap,  that  dance,  that  sleep, 
And  nearness  to  my  kind !  " 

He  laughed  aloud,  as  in  a  cloud 
A  meteor  beats  and  clings. 
So  in  my  thought  his  voice  was  wrought. 
He  flashed  his  bright,  melodious  wings. 

"  Too  late  !   Too  late  !   Thou  canst  not  choose. 
She  calls  thee  from  Her  radiant  spheres. 


1 9o  THE   WEDDING   FEAST 

What  thou  dost  now  with  tears  refuse 
To-night  thou  shalt  beseech  with  tears. 

u  For  thou  must  come  to  Her  with  blood, 
Purged  brightly  clean  with  mightiest  grief  \ 
With  chastened  longing  and  a  mood 
Humble  beyond  belief. 

"  / '//  show  thee  many  an  empty  sight. 
Through  many  a  void  shalt  thou  run, 
Until  thou  wailest  for  the  light 
In  the  city  of  the  sun. 

"  Until,  deep  panting  for  the  light, 
Thou  layest  down  thy  mortal  nature. 
Then  shalt  thou  be  transformed  and  bright, 
Eternal  and  angelic  creature." 


PART   III 

That  god  rode  forth  upon  my  mind. 
He  perched  upon  my  affrighted  wit, 
As  meteors  bristling  in  the  wind 
Amid  their  shining  plumage  sit. 

I  felt  his  glance  around  me  stream. 
His  flaming  hair  flew  over  me. 


THE   WEDDING   FEAST  191 

His  eyes  laid  hold  upon  my  dream 
And  made  me  see  as  he  did  see. 

When  like  great  steeds  appalled  at  night 
My  astonished  eyes  would  rear  and  run, 
He  set  his  bit  upon  my  sight 
And  made  it  drive  into  the  sun. 

He  scourged  it  down  into  the  dust. 
He  drove  it  down  into  the  stone. 
It  ran  as  ridden  creatures  must 
On  magic  journeys  bound  alone. 

With  blood  and  sweat  my  wits  were  wet. 
He  raced  them  through  a  solid  wall. 
It  was  a  dream  I  might  forget, 
A  dimness  that  was  not  at  all. 

A  soft,  a  pale,  a  silent  thing, 
My  face  did  cleave  and  set  it  by, 
And  underneath  its  cloudy  wing 
I  heard  its  separate  atoms  sing 
Like  the  great  stars  in  the  sky. 

For  what  is  large  and  what  is  small 

To  spiritual  eyes  ? 
The  great  Lord  careth  not  at  all 
For  the  dream  that  men  call  size. 


192  THE   WEDDING   FEAST 

But  what  thou  dost,  that  art  thou.  Lo, 

The  atoms  that  rehearse 
Their  orbits  in  the  stone  are  vast 

As  an  aeoned  universe. 

The  pebble  has  a  curious  will 
That  in  my  hand  doth  lie. 

It  seems  as  motionless  and  still 
As  the  zenith  in  the  sky. 

It  seems  to  make  not  any  sound. 

It  does  not  hum  nor  sing. 
It  keeps  a  helpless  simple  round 

Yet  is  a  fearful  thing. 

Its  molecules  weave  in  and  out, 
They  leap,  they  plunge,  they  dive. 
Up  from  dark  gulfs  they  whirl  about 
As  if  they  were  alive. 

They  live,  they  dance,  they  burn,  they  dit 
Their  Judgment  Days  draw  on  apace ! 
Between  their  smallest  atoms  lie 
Oceans  of  darkest  space. 

Those  atoms  ache,  they  groan,  they  quake, 
They  hiss,  they  plunge,  they  roar ! 


THE   WEDDING   FEAST  193 

And  I  that  hold  a  silent  stone 
Lift  up  a  living  war. 

It  does  not  burst,  it  does  not  shake, 
Nor  fly  dispersed  in  grains  of  sand. 
Its  shape  is  folded  over  it, 

Like  a  divine  great  hand. 

It  is  the  hand  that  lies  so  still ! 

It  never  sets  them  by. 
A  shape  serene,  but  under  it 
Those  whirling  atoms  dance  and  flit 
Like  the  quick  stars  in  the  sky ! 

This  earth,  it  is  not  as  it  seems. 

It  is  the  strangest  place  ! 
Once  did  I  run  on  solid  stones, 

But  now  I  trod  on  space. 

On  empty  gulfs  of  space  trod  I ! 

Worlds  were  beneath  my  feet, 
And  many  a  brightly  speeding  sky 

And  heaven  spreaded  sweet. 

"Thou  magic  sprite,  fearfully  bright, 

Now  have  I  wandered  far. 
What  are  these  gulfs  of  roaring  night 


I94  THE   WEDDING    FEAST 

Wherein  whirls  many  a  flaming  star? 
u  Substance,  before  thy  mortal  sight, 
Shows  all  things  as  they  are" 

u  What  is  this  world  so  green,  so  fair, 
That  hovers  brightly  over  me  ?  " 

u  //  is  the  atom  in  the  air 
Too  small  for  human  eyes  to  see. 

u  Behold,  its  forests  and  its  lakes, 
Its  mountains  and  its  rugged  scars, 
And  like  a  bristling  mane  it  shakes 
Lights  of  innumerable  stars. 

"  //  has  its  sunrise  beautiful 
On  shining  mountains  morning  pale. 
And  many  a  praying  temple  stands 
In  many  a  quiet  vale. 

"  Its  magic  towns  are  brightly  set 

Amid  the  spacious  air. 
Your  heavy  earth  is  the  varying  breeze 

That  sweetly  hovers  there, 
Tour  mountains  and  your  solid  seas 

To  them  are  purest  air. 

u  Their  casements  open  on  the  gale 
But  none  of  them  are  seen. 


THE   WEDDING   FEAST  195 

Another  earth,  another  sky, 
Strange  gardens  sweetly  green  ! 

u  No  siege  to  them  was  ever  laid. 

Unseen  their  bulwarks  are. 

With  gulfs  of  nearness  are  they  stayed 

As  distance  stays  the  star" 

u  You  cannot  see  their  flashing  eyes. 
Their  songs  and  prayers  you  cannot  hear. 
Oh  they  seem  further  than  the  skies 
Because  they  are  so  near. 

u  A  world  within  your  world  doth  lie, 

Hidden  from  mortal  men. 
Another  world  in  that  is  furled 

And  a  thousand  worlds  again." 

The  solid  air  around  me  there 
Heaved  like  a  roaring  ocean. 
And  far  and  wide  on  every  side 
I  saw  the  smoking  planets  ride 
In  waves  of  angry  motion. 

All  faces  of  all  living  men 

Among  those  waves  did  glide, 

A  moment  palely  floated,  then 
Were  gulfed  amid  the  tide. 


196  THE   WEDDING   FEAST 

Amid  the  gleaming,  swimming  sea 
I  saw  my  love  drift  dimly  by. 
"  Oh  lure  him  up,  bright  sprite,  to  me, 
Or  I  of  grief  shall  die. 

"  Out  of  this  fluid  flashing  earth 

Let  one  thing  solid  be. 
His  beauteous  body  that  God  made, 
Lord,  let  it  comfort  me. 

<c 1  reach  to  thee  with  my  hands,  my  love. 

On  lightnings  I  lay  hold ; 
On  clouds  and  citadels  and  domes 
And  kingdoms  dark  and  old. 

"  Through  unseen  flesh  of  secret  tribes 

That  no  man's  eyes  may  see, 
Through  wrath  and  hate  and  love  and  death 
I  lay  my  hands  on  thee." 

I  touched  his  garment  and  it  seemed 
A  mantle  wrought  of  cosmic  pain ! 
Of  sighing  worlds  and  dying  moons 
And  many  a  stellar  hurricane. 

For  he  was  clothed  in  day  and  night, 
And  aching  chills  and  chaos  cold, 


THE   WEDDING   FEAST  197 

And  groaning  worlds  and  mortal  blight 
And  all  things  terrible  and  old. 
Then  was  I  far  that  would  be  near, 
And  substance  was  a  fearful  thing. 
I  was  appalled  and  full  of  fear, 
That  was  the  daughter  of  a  king. 

I  plunged  to  him  through  whirling  night. 
The  stars,  the  times,  I  swept  aside. 
Once  more,  upon  his  bosom  bright, 
I  lay,  his  own  anointed  bride. 

"  Oh,  let  me  kiss  his  lips  once  more, 

His  sweet  lips,  or  I  die. 
So  near  they  are  no  gulf,  no  star 
Betwixt  our  breaths  shall  lie." 

"  Nearness,  thou  art  a  fearful  thing, 
And  no  man  sails  thy  ghostly  tide, 
But  angels  with  a  flaming  wing 

On  thy  strange  gulfs  can  glide. 
Spirits,  that  walk  on  shining  feet, 

Can  reach  the  other  side. 
Across  the  ocean  will  we  float. 
Thy  kiss  shall  be  a  living  boat  !  " 

My  radiant  daemon  cried. 
"  My  eyes  shall  leave  a  fiery  trail, 


198  THE   WEDDING   FEAST 

My  spread  wings  be  thy  bellying  sail^ 
I  will  be  thy  guide." 

His  face  gleamed  palely  at  my  prow, 
His  spread  wings  were  my  sails. 
His  screaming  voice  bestrid  the  air 
As  a  meteor  rides  the  gales. 
His  glances  streamed  about  my  sides, 

With  light  they  burnished  me, 
Among  the  sails  and  in  and  out 
His  hovering  vision  flew  about 

As  bright  as  it  could  be. 

"  What  is  this  ocean,  goblin  bright, 
This  silent,  smooth  and  crimson  sea  ? 
I  have  sailed  all  day  and  sailed  all  night, 
Is  there  no  port  to  left  or  right 

Where  I  might  harbored  be  ?  " 

Above  the  prow,  with  happy  brow, 
I  saw  that  radiant  daemon  shine : 
"  This  is  that  nearness  that  divides 

Thy  true  love's  lips  from  thine. 

"  What  is  great  and  what  is  small  ? 
What  is  near  and  what  is  far  ? 
Unto  the  Lord  that  made  us  all 
The  mote  is  equal  to  the  star" 


THE   WEDDING    FEAST  199 

"What  is  this  shore  to  which  I  come, 
Where  sunrise  reddens  into  day  ? 
It  seems  a  sweet  and  pleasant  home 
Where  a  wanderer  might  stay. 

"  Laughing  folks  move  to  and  fro, 

A  gentle  tribe  are  they. 
The  flutes  they  sing,  the  pipes  they  blow, 
The  harps  they  sweetly  play  ! 

"  Upon  my  prow  they  lay  their  hands, 
They  draw  me  swiftly  to  the  shore. 
What  are  these  heavenly  happy  lands 
Where  no  man  ever  was  before  ? 

a  They  twine  their  garlands  on  my  prow. 
They  clothe  me  in  a  garment  fair. 
With  laughing  flowers  they  crown  my  brow, 
Then  into  happy  vales  repair.'* 

The  goblin  spoke —  that  fierce-eyed  sprite  — 

He  swayed  me  with  his  spell  : 
"  These  are  thy  gardens  of  delight 
That  in  his  lips  do  dwell. 

Through  many  a  Heaven  shalt  thou  rove 

In  the  mystic  flesh  of  him  you 
And  many  a  fearful  Hell, 


200  THE    WEDDING    FEAST 

"  His  mortal  flesh,  It  is  a  mesh 

Of  worlds  and  space  and  time. 
A  universe,  it  doth  rehearse 
Old  chronicles  sublime. 

u  Made  in  the  image  of  the  Lord, 

Of  moons  and  stars  and  suns, 
And  round  about  and  in  and  out 
His  Heavenly  nature  runs. 

"  And  thou  art  lit  into  a  star 

That  on  his  lip  doth  flame. 
But  yet  thou  art  so  far  —  more  far 

Than  the  world  from  which  you  came?' 

Amazed,  I  gazed  upon  the  ground. 

I  looked  upon  the  air. 
White  clouds  were  floating  in  the  sky 

And  the  wind  was  everywhere. 

u  Why  did  they  greet  me  when  I  came 
And  garland  me  their  queen  ?  " 

"  His  substance  is  thy  living  land, 
Thy  sacred  own  demesne." 

"  Thou  magic  sprite,  thou  goblin  bright, 
These  sweet  vales  blossom  so, 


THE   WEDDING   FEAST  201 

And  forth  to  gather  garlands  green 

The  men  and  maidens  go. 
The  flutes  they  sing,  the  harps  they  play, 

The  pipes  they  sweetly  blow ! 

u  //  is  the  joy  of  bis  heart , 

That  keeps  perpetual  Spring. 
In  him  lies  furled  full  many  a  world, 

And  all  rise  up  to  sing. 
They  all  rise  up  to  sing  —  to  sing  — 

Meadow  and  hill  and  lea  ! 
His  body  glows  like  a  sweet  new  rose 

Because  he  dreams  of  thee" 

"  Thou  fierce-eyed  sprite,  daemonic,  bright, 

The  singing  season  goes. 
A  barren  waste,  a  faded  tree, 
And  withering  of  the  rose  ! 

"The  maidens  with  their  flowering  wreaths 

Are  shedding  bitter  tears. 

Their  eyes  that  laughed,  their  mouths  that  sang, 
Are  nebulous  with  years." 

"  It  is  the  passion  that  devours 

That  eats  his  flesh  away. 
His  youthful  gardens  glowing  green 


202  THE    WEDDING   FEAST 

Are  blasted  with  decay. 
Where  once  they  kept  their  festival, 

Lo  now,  the  bloodhounds  bay, 
And  in  his  sweetest  pastures  rove 

The  wild-eyed  beasts  of  prey. 
This  hast  thou  done  that  lured  too  far 

The  urgence  of  the  clay" 

"  The  earth  is  cracked,  the  sea  runs  dry, 
The  mountains  sink  into  the  ground  !  " 

"  //  is  the  wreckage  of  his  flesh 
From  his  spirit's  grievous  wound." 

"  Whence  came  these  priests  with  eyes  austere  ? 

They  lay  on  me  their  hands. 
See  —  I  am  bled  with  cruel  gyves 
And  bound  with  sullen  bands." 

"  Their  ancient  god  in  angry  mood 
Looks  down  on  thee  with  wrathful  eyes, 
Until  on  altars  red  with  blood 
Thou  art  the  sacrifice" 

"  Who  is  that  ancient  god  ?  "   .  .  . 

"  His  Soul, 

The  great,  the  high,  the  superhuman  ! 
He  is  beautiful  and  far. 


THE   WEDDING    FEAST  203 

He  is  throned  upon  a  star, 
Waiting  for  a  mystic  Woman" 

"  Master  of  light,  thou  daemon  bright, 

Now  dawns  the  Judgment  Day  ! 
The  earth  that  once  did  shine  so  bright 

Is  withered  all  away. 
The  earth  and  air  and  all  the  skies 

Are  folded  up  like  scrolls, 
And  from  the  pit  in  which  they  cry 

Comes  the  wailing  of  lost  souls.'* 

"//  is  the  wrath  his  Spirit  feels 

For  what  His  flesh  has  done. 
He  turns  to  a  diviner  feast 

In  the  city  of  the  sun. 
In  lovelier  lands  thou  canst  not  see 

He  seeks  a  cosmic  bride. 
Beneath  Her  face  He  gathers  grace, 

He  casts  His  flesh  aside. 

"  For  thou  art  Eve  and  thou  dost  tempt 
And  lead  astray  since  time  began. 
But  She  is  Mary  and  brings  forth 
The  perfect  Man." 

"  But  who  is  she  and  what  is  she, 
Thou  blazing,  bright,  mysterious  elf?  " 


204  THE    WEDDING    FEAST 

u  She  is  the  empress  over  thee, 
Thy  deep  eternal  Self. 

"  Throughout  thy  flesh  He  seeks  Her  face. 

Her  lips  He  fain  would  kiss. 
Wherefore  He  runs  through  roaring  suns 
And  many  a  dark  abyss" 

"  Thou  magic  sprite,  daemonic,  bright, 

Lay  then  on  me  thy  goad  ! 
For  if  he  seeks  her  face  to-night 
I  will  pursue  the  self-same  road. 

"  Through  moon  and  sun  I  '11  run.  I  'II  rove 
Through  solid  earth  and  flumes  of  fire  ! 

But  I  will  be  his  only  love, 
My  breast,  the  end  of  his  desire." 

"  Then  shalt  thou  search  through  thine  ownjlesh 

Thou  shalt  not  find  Him  there  ! 
For  /<?,  V  is  an  enchanted  mesh 
Woven  of  unearthly  air." 

That  goblin  bright,  that  fierce-eyed  sprite, 

Loud  and  long  laughed  he. 
He  laid  his  bit  upon  my  sight 
And  made  me  see  as  he  did  see. 


THE   WEDDING   FEAST  205 

The  atoms  of  my  body  stirred, 

Chanting  cosmic  tunes. 

Through  gulfs  of  time  they  wheeled  and  veered 
Or  through  deep  spaces  dipped  and  steered, 

Like  great  white  separate  moons. 

In  the  caverns  of  my  brain 
I  saw  fierce  planets  whirl  and  dip, 
Burn  in  the  hollow  of  my  hand 
Or  slide  along  my  finger  tip. 

Where  once  my  flesh  was  wont  to  be, 
Great  comets  swept  their  fearful  wars. 
My  bone,  it  shone  with  fires  and  seas, 
My  body  shook  with  stars. 

Sunsets  with  gold  and  scarlet  crest 
Through  my  flesh  did  gleam,  did  glide ; 
Through  flashing  hair  and  swimming  breast, 
Melting  forehead  and  trembling  side. 

Brightness,  I  see  a  shape  that  runs. 
I  see  it  sink  !   I  see  it  rise  ! 
Sometimes  it  clings  to  gorgeous  suns 
And  now  it  drowns  in  dizzy  skies." 

Thee  He  searches  through  and  through, 
Every  world  that  in  thee  lies^ 


206  THE    WEDDING    FEAST 

Seeking  for  a  Heavenly  Woman 
In  an  ancient  Paradise" 


"But  who  is  she  whose  spirit  face 
Appears  to  him  so  fair,  so  high  ? 
Is  she  clothed  in  deeper  grace  ? 
Is  she  more  beautiful  than  I  ?  " 

u  She  is  enthroned  on  high  —  afar. 
Moons  are  wreathed  about  Her  brow. 
She  shines  brightlier  than  a  star, 
She  is  more  beautiful  than  thou" 

"  Who  is  she  and  what  is  she, 

In  her  citadel  of  air  ? 
Where  can  her  secret  bosom  be, 
That  I  may  stab  her,  heavenly  fair  ?  " 

"  She  is  hid  in  a  palace  of  light, 
Deeper  than  the  midmost  sky. 
If  thou  shouldst  wound  Her  breast  to-night, 
Swiftly,  swiftly,  wouldst  thou  die." 

«  Who  is  she  ?   .  .   .   What  is  she  ? 

Thou  blazing,  bright,  mysterious  elf!" 
u  She  is  the  empress  over  thee, 
Thy  deep  eternal  self . 


THE    WEDDING    FEAST  207 

"  He  follows  Her  through  cloud  and  star, 
He  follows  Her  through  death  and  dream, 
Into  a  land  lovely  and  far  ! 

Her  kingdom  holy 
Is  lit  with  a  spiritual  gleam. 

"  With  blessed  food  They  shall  be  fed, 

In  Her  citadel  divine. 
Thy  flesh  shall  be  the  immortal  bread, 
Thy  soul — the  everlasting  wine." 

"Let  me  gaze  upon  her  face 
That  is  so  beautiful,  so  far. 
Let  me  behold  her  blinding  grace 
Throned  upon  her  midmost  star. 

"I  will  rend  her  with  my  hands  — 
Hostile,  bright,  fearfully  high. 
I  will  wound  her  where  she  stands. 
Then  swiftly,  swiftly,  let  me  die." 

"  Beware  !   Beware  !    I  say  beware  ! 
Her  eyes  shall  burn  thee  like  the  sun. 
She  is  fierce  and  She  is  fair, 
Her  will  upon  this  night  be  done" 


208  THE    WEDDING    FEAST 

PART    IV 

What  strange  pavilions  builded  bright 

Shine  in  the  upper  air! 
Scourged  with  sharp  rods  of  living  Iight5 

How  swiftly  was  I  there! 

She  was  more  radiant  than  the  noon, 
More  innocent  than  the  gentlest  sky, 
Taller  than  the  fire-white  moon  ! 
She  was  more  beautiful  than  I. 

Her  garments,  blown  about  my  breast, 
Were  music  in  my  heart  and  brain. 
They  were  more  exquisite  than  rest, 
More  terrible  than  pain. 

Before  God's  eyes  She  met  Her  mate. 
Not  yet  They  throbbed  with  single  bliss. 
Their  silent  lips,  austere,  elate, 
Dreamed  of  the  great  forbidden  kiss. 

"  Never,  never  shall  it  be! 

They  shall  not  go  comforted, 
Until  They  strain  Their  wine  of  thee, 
And  eat  thee  for  Their  daily  bread. 


THE    WEDDING   FEAST  209 

"  If  They  lose  what  They  desire, 
Greater  than  mortal  man  or  woman, 

They  shall  be  dispersed  in  fire. 
Their  sufferings  shall  be  superhuman" 

All  about  on  every  side 
I  saw  the  blazing  planets  go. 
Ashes  of  Judgment  Days  did  ride 

On  gales  as  white  as  snow. 

Many  a  laughing  Paradise 
Stricken  in  the  air  did  ail, 
And  many  a  spent  and  anguished  moon 
Blackened  the  midnight  gale. 

Each  to  each  with  grievous  cry, 
Withered  from  its  living  mesh, 
And  well  I  knew  that  they  were  I, 
The  weavings  of  my  mortal  flesh. 

She  could  not  rule  them  with  desire 
Nor  bid  them  from  their  eternal  pain, 
Until  my  breath  had  blown  the  fire 
By  which  they  should  be  purged  again. 

"Lay  me  in  Her  altar  flame, 
Thou  blazing,  bright,  mysterious  elf. 


210  THE    WEDDING    FEAST 

She  is  the  empress  over  me, 
My  deep  eternal  Self. 

"  Splendor,  let  me  be  Thy  wine, 
Crimson,  in  a  starry  cup. 
Let  me  be  Thy  drink  divine. 
Pour  me  forth  and  drink  me  up. 

"  Seize  me,  Splendor,  where  I  stand ! 
On  my  substance  be  Thou  fed. 
Break  me  with  Thy  radiant  hand  — 
Anguished  and  nutritious  bread. 

"Then  no  more,  not  any  more, 
Shall  I  hate  and  worship  Thee  ! 
But  Thy  kiss,  shaped  of  my  death, 
Be  the  utter  end  of  me. 

u  In  Thy  citadel  of  air  — 
Fearful  art  Thou,  like  the  sun. 
Thou  art  fierce  and  Thou  art  fair ! 
Thy  Will  upon  this  night  be  done." 


PART   V 

At  last  from  dreamless  sleep  I  came, 
The  seeds  of  fire  were  in  my  eyes. 


THE   WEDDING   FEAST  211 

I  seemed  to  come  from  blood  and  flame 
As  from  a  sacrifice. 

Oh  in  that  sleep  where  had  I  been, 
What  fearful  pathways  had  I  trod? 
What  had  i  done?  What  had  I  seen  ? 
That  I  should  feel  so  near  to  God  ! 

Upon  an  altar  had  I  lain. 
With  snow-white  fire  they  wrapped  me  round. 
I  can  remember  that  vast  pain, 
Spiritual,  profound. 

For  centuries  in  a  speechless  place 
I  was  a  spent  and  anguished  thing. 
They  drifted  flame  upon  my  face. 
I  was  a  sacred  offering. 

I  waked  —  and  peace  was  in  my  eyes, 
And  happiness  did  me  enfold; 
A  single  sleep  had  made  me  wise, 
Serene,  immeasurably  old. 

My  mortal  dream  I  had  laid  by 
And  no  desire  had  I  now. 
Wrapped  in  eternal  calm  was  I 
And  peace  was  throned  upon  my  brow. 


212  THE    WEDDING   FEAST 

Strange  was  the  place  where  I  had  been. 
It  seemed  to  me  like  deepest  Hell. 
Lo,  now  I  glistened,  brightly  clean, 
Detached,  immutable,  and  well. 

And  oh,  I  was  not  any  more 
As  I  had  been,  unhappy,  human, 
But  beauteous  as  I  was  before, 
Greater  than  any  mortal  woman. 

The  sunsets  of  the  eternal  years 
Poured  forth  for  me  their  mellow  wine. 
I  felt  the  sunrise  of  the  spheres 
My  breast  incarnadine. 

All  abroad,  on  every  side, 
Singing  stars  did  shine  and  beat, 
And  they  were  messengers  of  joy 
On  beautiful  swift  feet. 

Then  with  my  looks  I  bade  them  move 
With  laughter  down  the  sweet  blue  years, 
And  they  were  globed  of  loveliest  love, 
Roseate  and  angelic  spheres. 

Each  to  each  did  cry  and  sing 
Out  of  their  bright  melodious  mesh. 


THE    WEDDING    FEAST  213 

And  lo  —  I  knew  each  laughing  star 
Was  spun  into  my  earthly  flesh. 

Beautiful,  before  my  eyes 
Strangest  light  they  did  receive. 
Orbs  of  sweetest  Paradise ! 
Gardens  where  God  walked  at  eve ! 


For  I  was  come  into  a  place 

Wherefrom  all  things  are  wrought, 
I  shaped  my  body  forth  in  space 

In  myriad  orbs  of  thought. 

Upon  the  earth,  in  her  father's  hall, 
I  saw  a  simple  maiden  stand. 
A  thousand  worlds,  I  held  them  all, — 
Her  mystic  body,  —  in  my  hand. 

Sweetly  to  me  my  great  Love  came. 
"Love,  I  have  waited  long,"  He  said. 
I  poured  for  Him  the  mystic  wine. 
He  gave  me  white  angelic  bread. 

Then  did  we  glow  with  rapture  high  ! 
We  felt  a  deep,  ethereal  bliss. 
He  laid  me  on  His  breast.    I  gave 
To  my  great  Love,  a  holy  kiss. 


214  THE   WEDDING   FEAST 


PART    VI 

No  more  —  no  more  —  not  any  more 
Those  daemon  eyes  were  bent  on  me. 
I  was  a  maid  as  I  was  before. 
My  love  had  come  to  marry  me. 

They  knew  not  of  my  spirit's  flight, 
Guessed  not  my  starry  wandering. 
The  torch  was  lit,  the  feast  was  bright, 
For  the  daughter  of  the  king. 

In  at  the  door  my  true  love  came. 
Trembling,  I  looked  into  his  eyes. 
I  saw  the  stars  of  memory  flame, 
Eternal  as  the  skies. 

I  cried,  "  When  I  abroad  did  rove 
You  saw  me  shine,  exalted,  strange. 
Lo  now,  the  miracle  of  love  — 
In  me,  —  a  silent,  shining  change. 

"  Forevermore  my  wings  must  reach 
And  in  fair  skies  must  brightly  spread. 
My  mouth  must  utter  beauteous  speech, 
And  stars  must  shine  above  my  head. 


THE    WEDDING    FEAST  215 

"  A  change  has  come  on  me.   Mine  eyes 
Are  spiritual  and  I  must  see 
Another  world  and  stranger  skies 
Than  ever  used  to  be. 

"  Nothing  is  now  as  once  it  seemed 
Before  I  ran  with  the  daemon  bright. 
Beauty  has  out  of  terror  streamed, 
All  in  a  single  night !  " 

I  cried,  "  What  change  has  come/  on  death, 
That  I  no  more  corruption  see, 

But  breathe  a  keener  breath  ? 

It  is  a  change  in  me  ! 

I  have  grown  ethereal, 

Exalted,  immaterial, 
Wiser  and  merrier  than  I  used  to  be. 

u  When  I  regard  the  church-yard  dust 
And  touch  the  grain  of  dead  men's  bones, 
My  sight,  as  spirit  vision  must, 

Sinks  through  the  melting  stones. 

"  I  seem  to  hear  upon  the  air 
A  sweet,  a  multitudinous  sound  ! 
Ten  thousand  creatures  dancing  there 
Make  beautiful  the  ground. 


216  THE   WEDDING   FEAST 

u  The  fountains  leap  !  The  fountains  spring ! 
They  heal  me  with  their  cool  delight ! 
I  weep,  and  merrily  I  sing, 
A  creature  passionately  bright. 

"  I  feed  upon  the  loveliest  fruit 
That  ever  shone  on  any  tree. 
I  bite  its  mild  mysterious  root, 

I  dance  in  ecstasy. 
Gleaming  softly  in  and  out 
Calm  dead  people  move  about 
As  happy  as  can  be. 

"  I  cannot  grieve  !    I  cannot  weep  ! 
I  cannot  see  an  unholy  thing ! 
Behold  —  a  corpse  laid  out  to  sleep. 
Death  swathed  it  in  a  living  wing, 
And  underneath  that  snow-white  plume 
I  heard  a  happy  creature  sing. 

"  For  now  love's  breath  is  in  my  hair, 
Mine  eyes  have  seen  the  greater  bliss. 
My  smiling  lips  shall  always  wear 
The  splendor  of  my  great  Love's  kiss. 

u  Now  must  they  be  deep  wells  of  truth, 
Wherefrom  a  fount  of  beauty  springs. 


THE   WEDDING   FEAST  217 

The  mouth,  whereon  His  lips  were  pressed, 
Shall  murmur  dread  ecstatic  things." 

I  laughed  aloud  —  "  Love,  we  are  gods, 

Beyond  all  earthly  bars  ! 
And  underneath  our  feet  the  sod 

Is  suns  and  moons  and  stars. 

"  We  gather  meteors  in  our  hands, 

We  drink  the  bubbling  spheres. 
Our  bread  is  seas  and  lands.  We  breathe 
The  cyclones  of  the  years. 

"  Our  garments  bright  are  woven  of  light, 
Of  golden  stars  and  whirling  air. 
And  times  and  change  and  histories  strange, 
And  Judgment  Days,  are  acted  there. 

"  Thy  shape  is  white  with  murmuring  moons, 
Woven  of  strong  stars  thy  body  is. 
Thou  art  those  flashing  orbs  —  my  soul, 
Their  ancient  melodies  ! 

"  Now  are  we  one  before  God's  sight, 
Purged  brightly  clean  with  mightiest  grief, 
With  chastened  longing  and  a  mood 
Humble  beyond  belief. 


zi 8  THE   WEDDING   FEAST 

"  Love,  thou  art  Priest  at  Heaven's  shrine ! 
The  Truth  thou  knowest,  cry  again ! 
My  breasts  are  beautiful  with  milk. 
I  am  mother  to  all  living  men  !  " 


DOMINUS   VINEAE; 
SPIRITUS   AGRICOLA1 

Once  more  among  our  archangelic  hills 
The  streets  of  this  old,  grave,  and  gracious  town 
Throb  with  renewing  vigor  as  when  Spring 
Rushes  upon  the  forest  and  through  it  spills 
Her  ancient  rapture.  Now  the  campus  thrills 

With  feet  that  run  and  voices  that  sing. 

It  is  the  College  in  her  bourgeoning ! 

Happy  are  we 
Returning  homeward  that  we  still  can  see 

In  the  old  places 

The  tenderly  remembered  kindly  faces 
Of  those  who  taught  us  wisdom  in  our  youth; 
In  faith  established,  having  made  plain  the  truth 
Of  beautiful  friendship,  honorably  proved  ; 
Yes,  in  a  chastened  and  a  lofty  mood 

Of  thoughtful  gratitude 
Seeing  once  more  in  the  accustomed  ways 

1  This  ode  was  read  at  the  assembly  of  alumnae,  held  June  I4th, 
1910,  in  commemoration  of  the  thirty-seven  years  of  service  of  L.  Clark 
Seelye,  first  president  of  Smith  College,  1873-1910. 


220  DOMINUS  VINEAE 

Him  whom  we  come  to  praise, 
Presence  revered  and  loved. 


Ever  among  life's  solemn  things 
Are  such  rejoicings. 
Beneath  the  laughter  and  the  song  there  fall 

Rich  silences, 

And  stronger  cadences, 

And  deeper  voices  call 

"  Ending  is  here  "  —  and  cycles  new  and  strange 
Sweep  through  the  air  a  solemn  undertone. 
Deeper  than  depth  beneath  all  things  are  blown 
The  rushings  of  the  invisible  wings  of  change. 

Not  ours  to  know 

His  deep  rejoicings 
When  with  strict  vigilance  and  with  secret  pains 

He  turned  to  visible  gains 

Hard  and  invisible  things. 
Not  ours  the  solemn  splendor  of  those  wings 
That  in  his  sombre  vigils  of  the  night 
Seized  him  with  visions  excellently  bright. 

Not  ours  the  speechless  grievings, 
The  glorious  believings, 

When  with  a  glad  surmise 
He  saw  the  future  with  prophetic  eyes. 

Not  ours  to  know, 


DOMINUS  VJNEAE  221 

During  laborious  years, 

The  downcast  moment  or  with  what  aching  need 
He  watched  upon  the  bursting  of  the  seed ; 
Nor  the  interior  spiritual  tears 

That  are  the  bitter  waterings 

Of  all  heroic  things  ; 

Nor  amid  what  savor  of  his  midnight  prayer 
The  Spirit  came  upon  him  with  a  mood 
That  drove  him  forth  into  the  solitude 
Of  sleepless,  holy  watching.  And  he  went. 
And  beholding  a  vision  wonderfully  fair 
He  wrestled  with  the  Lord  before  the  tent. 

But  ours  is  the  harvesting, 
The  joyous  bringing-in, 
The  drinking  of  the  wine 
That  is  the  vintage  of  his  thought  benign. 
Ours  is  the  glory  won  ! 
What  ritual  shall  be  done  ? 
What  shall  be  said  ? 
Ye  feasters  upon  bread 
Made  of  nutritious  grain, 
The  very  kernel  of  his  faith  and  pain  ! 

Upon  this  day 
There  is  accomplished  a  great  deed, 

A  beautiful  fruition 
From  the  small  sowing  of  an  early  seed. 


222  DOMINUS  VINEAE 

Behold,  a  work  is  brought  into  completion. 
Let  us  rejoice,  for  we  have  need  I  say, 
Of  every  praiseful  speech  and  loving  word, 
Knowing  that  when  night  falls  upon  this  town 

A  good  man  has  laid  down 
His  fruits  upon  the  table  of  the  Lord. 

Behold  the  Pioneer ! 
Stout-hearted,  with  keen  eyes,  of  vision  clear, 

A  natural  searcher  for  such  land  as  lies 
In  distant  seas  and  under  alien  skies. 

Would  I  might  trace 

The  courtly  quaintness  and  the  austere  grace, 
The  angelic  shrewdness  of  that  kindly  face, 
Inscribed  with  characters,  as  if  lightning-struck 
God's  gracious  scripture  was  engraved  on  rock. 

A  son  of  our  New  England  stock, 
Serene,  high-souled,  and  exquisitely  plain 
As  mountain  air  is,  after  a  cold  rain  ! 

But  yet  with  no  severity 

In  his  sweet  austerity  ! 

So  charitably  mild 

I  think  that  any  child 
Would  run  to  meet  him  if  he  only  smiled ! 

I  like  to  muse 
On  his  first  simple  strenuous  days 


DOMINUS  VINEAE  123 

And  the  high-hearted  girls  that  greatly  kept 

Their  great  companionships 
With  sages,  prophets,  poets.   With  what  glad  eyes 

They  tripped,  girl-wise, 
Through  many  a  blossoming  Paradise  ! 
In  flower-sweet  vales  where  dreaming  Pindar  slept 
The  bees  left  honey  on  their  lips. 
In  classic  porticos  of  thought, 

By  Grecian  boys  befriended, 
With  lofty  speech  and  young  imaginings 

They  jealously  attended 
High  counsels  held  on  spiritual  things, 

Angelic  —  human. 
Still  by  mankind  forbidden,  they  eagerly  sought 

What  Diotima  unto  Plato  taught 
And  Socrates  learned  from  a  mystic  Woman. 

Yes  — it  should  be  our  glory  and  elation 
That  among  the  earliest  women  of  this  nation 
They  vowed  themselves  to  that  great  exploration. 

How  many  a  girl  has  set 
Her  face  against  the  unhuman  wind  that  blows 

From  the  imperishable  snows 
Of  mathematical  glaciers  and  beheld 
Such  fierce  auroral  splendors  as  not  yet 
Have  shown  in  gentler  climates,  but  flash  forth 

Out  of  the  frozen  north 


224  DOMINUS  VINEAE 

Of  ultimate  thought  that  has  not  any  pole ; 
Or  has  explored  the  regions  of  the  soul 
And  from  some  philosophic  precipice 

Has  swept 

Her  innocent  vision  over  the  dark  abyss 
Of  mortal  night ; 
With  spirit  lowly 
And  with  dreaming  eyes 
Has  guarded  well  the  sight 
Of  visions  lovely  and  holy, 
And  half  a  child,  in  solitude,  has  kept 
Her  solemn  watch  beneath  the  infinite  skies. 

Look  —  we  arise 

Before  the  elder  daughters  gathered  here. 

Scanning  young  faces  with  gaze  steady  and  clear, 
They  search  them  and  require 
A  spiritual  accounting  and  a  just. 

"  How  have  ye  answered  to  the  sacred  trust  ? 

Before  the  lamps  we  lighted  have  ye  slept  ? 

Have  ye  forsook  the  service  ?  or  have  ye  kept 

Your  spirits  constant  and  your  minds  austere  ? 

Out  of  our  vessels  have  ye  spilt  the  wine  ? 

Are  ye  troubled  with  a  spiritual  yearning  ? 
Are  ye  dream-enchanted  ? 

What   are  your   visions  ?    Are   your   souls   star- 
haunted  ? 


DOMINUS  VINEAE  225 

Speak,  in  the  fennel  is  the  fire  still  burning? 

Is  the  incense  good  ?   Is  the  fragrance  pungent  and 

fine? 

What  prayers  do  ye  breathe  over  it  ? 
Ye  unknown  daughters  of  this  generation, 
In  sacred  places  is  the  service  fit  ? 
And  with  the  old  mysterious  elation, 
Ye  younger  vestals,  have  ye  kept  the  shrine  ? 
Oh,  is  the  flame  upon  our  altars  lit  ? " 

Last  night  among  our  academic  trees 

Gleamed  golden  bubbles,  globes  of  scarlet  light, 

Blue  stars,  and  moons  diaphanously  white, 

As    if  great    comets    blew   through    our    mortal 

night 

A  fiery  and  a  planetary  seed. 
Then  was  there  laughter  and  such  sights  indeed 
As  once  we  never  dreamed. 

It  seemed 
As  if  the  altar  spirit  had  been  spent 

In  delirious  merriment. 
Amid  the  ancient  falling  of  the  dew 
Flashed  spirits  white,  the  very  maddest  crew 
That  ever  charmed  the  grass  with  dances  new. 
Like  morning  stars  singing  in  the  deep  skies ! 
With  silvery  halloo  and  gracious  cries 
Of  friendship  !   Why,  in  such  a  magic  air, 


226  DOMINUS  VINEAE 

One  looked  no  more  for  any  mortal  thing, 
But  for  such  faery  pageants  as  were  seen 

When  Vivian  dressed  in  green 
Charmed  Wisdom  into  strange  imagining. 
Then,  as  of  gay  and  friendly  fauns, 
Were  daintiest  skippings  on  the  lawns, 
Bright  screams  and  singing  calls 
Of  innocent  Bacchanals, 

While  through  the  darkness  in  delicious  swirls, 
Sport  beguiled, 
Delicately  wild, 
Swept  lightly  frenzied  girls. 

Sedulously  the  elders  catechize, 

But  to  the  watchful  query  of  their  eyes 

Gaze  back  young  eyes  as  clear. 
u  Before  the  lamps  ye  lighted  we  have  not  slept. 
Still,  still  do  we  behold  with  ritual  lowly 
Visions  and  things  unutterably  holy, 
And  with  strict  pain  and  vigilance  have  kept 
Our  spirits  constant  and  our  minds  austere. 
Even  as  of  old  our  spiritual  waters 
Are  troubled  with  the  angels.   Oh,  believe ! 
Now,  as  of  old,  communing  with  His  daughters 
God  walks  among  these  gardens  in  the  eve." 

Now,  as  of  old  !  Still  do  the  orchard  trees 


DOMINUS  VINEAE  227 

Bear  fruits  for  ardent  girls.  In  Paradise 
Forget-me-nots  still  look  with  childlike  eyes. 
To  the  intimate  skies 
Point  familiar  towers. 
It  is  no  alien  grace 
That  mocks  from  a  strange  face. 

Unspeakably  ours  ! 

But  the  old  Spirit,  with  influence  divine, 
Is  worshiped  still  upon  this  mystic  shrine. 
Happy  are  they  who  in  their  youth  inherit 
That  vast  and  lovely  Spirit 
To  whom  our  steps  are  led  — 
The  invisible,  scarce  dreamed  of,  superhuman, 

The  Ultimate  Woman  — 
The  moon  of  Heaven  is  underneath  Her  feet 
And    twelve    bright    stars   are   orbed   about   Her 
head. 

Oh,  let  it  on  this  day  of  him  be  said, 

He  had  the  sight, 

The  interior  vision,  and  he  saw  such  things, 
As  John  the  Beloved  dreamed  on.  And  he  came, 
And  raised  a  holy  altar  in  the  night, 
And  that  Her  presence  should  be  known  by  flame 
He  set  upon  Her  shrine  an  eternal  light. 
So  did  the  Seer  remind  us, 
Lest  the  new  morning  blind  us, 


228  DOMINUS  VINEAE 

That  beauty  and  youth  and  youth's  own  spiritual 

yearning, 

All  loves  and  aspirations, 
Hard  labors  and  elations, 
All  passionate  learning, 
Should  be  the  oil  to  that  holy  burning. 

Wherefore  let  us  wisdom  take 

And  of  it  make 
A  garment  innocent  and  fair 
Radiant  as  the  early  air. 
Let  us  turn  it  into  Spring : 
Out  of  ancient,  alien  dust 
Wake  a  joyous  blossoming ; 
With  a  heart  of  ardent  trust 
Refreshing  earth  with  untouched  dew, 
Cultures  exquisite  and  new, 
Praising  him,  if  praise  we  can, 
That  in  a  time  when  men  on  Customs  lean, 

By  a  great  man, 
Womanhood  has  been  beautifully  seen. 


Oh  man  of  battles!   Hero  in  God's  sight ! 
Zealous  fighter  for  the  right, 
Stout  wielder  of  the  sword, 

Lover  of  things  desirable  and  hard  ! 


DOMINUS  VINEAE  229 

How  beautiful  he  goes ! 

As  graciously  as  a  rose 
Unfolds  its  sweetness  to  a  larger  light ! 
The  work  achieved  and  with  the  Lord  put  by, 

He  goes  to  other  deeds, 

Fulfilling  unseen  needs, 
To  greatnesses  hard  and  high. 

By  his  influence  benign, 
And  by  his  battles  at  the  great  redoubt, 
By  his  purged  and  chastened  sight, 
That  saw  a  Woman  raised  upon  the  night  — 

Oh  by  his  faith  divine, 
And  the  pure  flame  he  set  upon  Her  shrine, 

Let  not  that  light  go  out. 


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